


London Bridge is Falling Down

by Primarina (PastelBrachypelma)



Series: Nursery Rhymes to Sing in the Dark [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), IT - Stephen King
Genre: 1988 IT timeline, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Horror, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Death, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), it's just pennywise eating kids, more characters might get added idk, warning might be upped depending on violence levels, y'know the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2020-10-21 08:23:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 51,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20690447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBrachypelma/pseuds/Primarina
Summary: "The town of London, Maine had its secrets, as many old small towns do. It had an abandoned campground, surrounded by tall trees that got the most sun on hot summer days. It had an extensive sewer system that wound intricately through every street and every corner of the town.And it had a history of mysterious disappearances. Except nobody paid attention to those."Happy Halloween!





	1. Prologue

The small town of London, Maine was like many small towns. Its population was far too intimate with the goings-on of their neighbors, small festivals were held about once a month in the downtown area just to keep its residents from getting bored, and the public library was actually considered a cool place to hang out by local teens.

The town of London also had its secrets, as many old small towns do. It had an abandoned campground, surrounded by tall trees that got the most sun on hot summer days. It had an extensive sewer system that wound intricately through every street and every corner of the town. And it had a history of mysterious disappearances. Except nobody paid attention to those.

Everyone knew there was something inexplicably weird, however, about the Campsite Kids, a small group of children who made their home in the abandoned campground. These children had existed alongside London throughout the ages, though of course, they came and went as they grew older, often getting as far away from London as possible.

Now, there were three of them. Three strange orphans, under-washed but never smelly, very few survival skills but never hungry (at least, not more than you’d expect), and unafraid of the sewer systems, often found playing in them. Their names were Jack, Katie, and Wren.

Wren and Katie had come to London after Katie’s mother, Wren’s sister, died in a car accident. Wren had felt drawn to London, and soon found her home in the abandoned campsite. Jack was a runaway from a city halfway across the country, but wouldn’t share more than that. He knew what neglect looked like, though. All of them did.

Perhaps that was the problem with London. Its families were too damn perfect.

~

Aziraphale didn’t understand why Maturin had sent him here. As far as he could tell, this town was happy and peaceful. Absolutely nothing out of place.

“The creatures of the Deadlights are tricky, dear Aziraphale,” Maturin had told him. “Don’t be fooled. They have a feeding cycle, and this one’s is swiftly approaching. It will take a child. It may take multiple children. You must remain vigilant. I fear nothing can stand against it.”

Aziraphale had spent a few days talking to London’s children, asking questions to see if any kids had gone missing in recent memory. To his surprise, no child he talked to could remember if any kids had gone missing. The older kids, however, spoke with contempt of the Campsite Kids, who they felt didn’t deserve pity from the adults around them just because they’d lost their families.

Naturally, this made Aziraphale very curious. He pulled aside one of the older boys, Paul, as he saw him in the street.

“Hey, Paul.”

“Heya, Mr. Fell!” Paul smirked, digging his hands into his jeans pockets. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Dear boy, I don’t suppose you could point out the Campsite Kids for me?”

“Sure I can!” Paul grinned mischievously. “C’mon. This way.”

Aziraphale followed Paul away from the bustle of London’s main square, towards the woods that surrounded London on all sides. The bank of a bubbling stream separated civilization from nature, something which Aziraphale, agent of Maturin, wasn’t exactly sure if he liked or not.

“There.” Paul pointed. Across the river, carved into the side of the bank, was an oversized sewer pipe. It looked out of use, moss lining the edges and down into its maw. Aziraphale shuddered. “That’s where they come out every day for school.”

“And there’s three, you said?”

Paul nodded, frowning. “Freaks. Don’t like ‘em.”

“And why is that?” Aziraphale asked.

The older boy shrugged, turning away. “Who plays in the sewers, Mr. Fell? And what girl likes snakes?”

Aziraphale let Paul return to the main square where he’d been hanging out with his friends. He stared curiously at the entrance to the sewer. Maturin had told him that the Deadlight creatures were shapeshifters, whose true form were nothing more than bright, orange lights. This was the form that the creatures used to feed, as looking into the lights would stun their victims, leaving them powerless.

Were the Campsite Kids even human? Or were they ghosts of the creature’s past victims?

Aziraphale heard the school bell. Recess was over. In just a few hours, Aziraphale would know for sure what the Campsite Kids were…and if they were in any danger from an It.

~

Jack pushed his way through the mass of fifth graders, jumping up and down to try and see over the millions of heads ahead of him. He was looking for Wren and Katie, who got out a few minutes before him. Mostly because Wren was considered weird, and kids avoided her more than they avoided him, and Katie was only six, so she got out earlier from elementary school.

“Wren!” Jack called, waving his arms. Wren, a tall, lanky girl who had yet to grow into her adult limbs despite being in seventh grade, turned, her dark hair pulled into two clumsy braids hanging loose over her shoulders. She was wearing a mini skirt and a band tee shirt. She awkwardly waved back.

Jack pushed his blonde hair out of his eyes and weaved through the crowd. “Meet anyone interesting?” He asked, watching Katie drawing with pink chalk on the concrete.

Wren shook her head. “No. D’ya think he’ll be angry?”

Jack smirked. “When’s the last time you honestly saw him angry, Wren?”

The older girl shrugged, smiling shyly. “You’re right. I don’t think he could be angry with us even if he wanted to.”

“The last time he raised his voice at me was when I was out after midnight,” Jack crossed his arms over his chest, thinking about getting a new patch for his jean jacket. “I don’t think he could ever get mad at Katie.”

“Well, she’s only little,” Wren replied, watching Katie scribble. “There’s probably not much she could do to make him mad.”

Jack shifted his weight, shouldering his backpack awkwardly. It had been a year since Katie and Wren had joined the Campsite Kids. He wasn’t jealous, but he missed Jamie, the older boy who had brought Jack to the abandoned campsite and explained everything. Jamie went away after that, and they were left alone with him. It seemed a whole lifetime ago. Jack could barely remember the parents he’d fled.

He bent down, smiling. “Whatchya drawin’, Katie-girl?’

Katie smiled like the sun, her dark curls framing her face as she glanced up at him, shifting to the side so he could see. It was a snake, wearing sunglasses.

“It looks pretty,” Wren said, holding out her hand. “C’mon. We’re gonna be late for dinner.”

The three children left the school quietly, slipping away in between the buildings, heading for the river. They didn’t even notice that they were being watched.

~

Aziraphale grinned. Finally, his patience had paid off! As far as he could tell, the Campsite Kids were human. Now, it was up to him to decide if they were in any danger from the It lying dormant below London. He couldn’t help smiling, watching the kids talking and laughing amongst themselves, completely unaware of the danger living where they most liked to play.

Aziraphale watched with baited breath as the children approached the entrance to the old sewer. The tall girl looked around, making sure no one was watching them (and, as far as her human senses would be able to tell, no one was), and then rapped three times on the roof of the sewer pipe. The sound reverberated throughout the clearing, seeming to drown out the noise of the city square behind them.

After the echo had died down, the three children ducked inside the sewer. And Aziraphae couldn’t tell if they were doomed or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An IT AU for Halloween! Please keep in mind, though I've tried to do as much research as possible, I've never seen IT (either series) or read the book. (Nor do I intend to, because clowns freak me out!!) 
> 
> Have a safe and happy Halloween, look out for clowns, and don't forget to leave me a little treat, in the form of kudos or comments, please! It really makes my day! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 1: When Good Meets Evil

For a few days after that, Aziraphale watched the sewers for any signs of the It he was meant to be stalking. He was relieved when he saw the children coming and going from the entrance to the sewer, even playing happily in the shallow part of the river. But, he thought, this couldn’t possibly be It’s lair.

“They like sewers,” Maturin had told him. “Often, their towns have massive underground sewer networks, so they can be anywhere at any time, ready to strike.”

Aziraphale was starting to think either this It was still dormant (or else, why would It let children play so close to It’s home?), he was incredibly dense and he’d missed it slipping out, or the creature itself was incredibly dense and Maturin needn’t have been worried about it at all.

But no, he was sent here specifically because it was dangerous, and a real threat to children in the area. So he’d wait.

The children had emerged for school as normal, but about an hour afterward, someone else crawled out of the sewer. The man, dressed all in black, flowed out of the entrance like a snake, dark sunglasses covering his eyes. He had fiery red hair in a short and stylish cut, and he brushed himself off as he straightened up, striding forward towards the town.

Aziraphale stretched out his senses and recoiled immediately. This man was the It he’d been searching for.

Did he allow the children to co-exist with him to fatten them up? What, exactly, was the creature’s motive? Aziraphale had to know.

He also knew that, if the creature was just waking up, it would be hungry. A hungry creature would hunt, which would give him the chance to do away with it as quickly as possible.

The thing was…it didn’t appear to be hunting.

Aziraphale followed the creature through the London crowds. It was a nice day, so many families with young children were out and about. As far as Aziraphale could tell, there were plenty of opportunities for the creature to feed. But he didn’t. Azuiraphale saw no evidence of predatory behavior, no hint that the creature was even hungry. No licking of lips or wistful stares at the children around him. In fact, while he’d stopped to look at a newspaper underneath a bakery awning, a little girl dropped her doll right in front of him. Instead of being afraid, the little girl bent to pick it up, and the creature smiled kindly at her, giving her the comics section out of his paper.

Aziraphale watched with growing confusion as the creature wandered the square, doing the opposite of what he expected. Not once did he try to lure children away to feed. In fact, he bought several children ice cream cones, and made a silly face at a baby who was crying. He was being downright…kind. And the creature of Good decided he’d had enough.

He slid through the crowd, grabbing the creature by the arm. “Hey! I say, good fellow, what is the meaning of this?!”

The creature raised an elegant eyebrow as it was tugged backwards. “Sorry? Do I know—”

“I,” Aziraphale growled, “was sent here to destroy you, you vile fiend!”

Instead of looking at all afraid or intimidated, the creature grinned broadly. “Right. Well, I’d rather not have this conversation in public, if it’s all the same to you. Can I buy you lunch?”

Aziraphale, stunned and peckish, found that he agreed with the offer.

~

Aziraphale had ordered a toasted ham and cheese sandwich with fries off the menu, along with a liberally sweetened coffee. The waitress smiled at him in that vacant, customer service way as she wrote down his order in her little notebook. “And for you, sir?” She asked, turning to the creature.

“Nothing for me, thank you,” the It smiled kindly, and the waitress nodded, quickly heading off towards the kitchen. “So,” the creature said once she was gone, sipping the coffee he held cradled between both of his thin, spindly hands, “to what do I owe the pleasure of a creature from the great Turtle Himself?”

“I,” Aziraphale replied, puffing himself up, “was tasked with stopping an It from eating children. Permanently.”

“Well, consider me stopped.” The creature yawned, seemingly out of boredom. “I’m not personally up for killing kids.”

“That’s what I don’t get, creature,” Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “I don’t understand how you work.”

“First of all,” the creature sat back, dismissing Aziraphale completely, “I think we should be on first name terms. I’m known as Crowley.” He smirked. “Your turn.”

“Aziraphale,” Aziraphale replied, once again stunned into playing into the creature’s hands. “You really don’t eat children?”

Crowley snorted. “No, certainly not! I like children.” He steepled his hands. “They’re so funny, so creative, so trusting. They’re strange in their own way, but…” Here, he smiled fondly. “It would be a real shame to eat them, don’t you think?” He took a long, deep drink of his coffee, and Aziraphale could sense that the creature--Crowley--was not at full power.

“But…” he protested, “don’t all of you...Deadlight creatures...eat children?! Isn’t there a reason for that?”

Crowley shrugged, leaning back in the booth, his long legs sprawling. Aziraphale wondered why he’d chosen a form with such awkward limbs. “Weeeelll,” he conceded, seeming to roll the word around on his tongue, “yes. Long ago, Mother Deadlight found out that children are typically the most delicious meal because their imaginations are the strongest.” He traced the handle of the mug with his thumb. “Since we feed off fear, prey tastes better if it’s good and terrified, and, like I said…”

“Those children,” Aziraphale clenched his fists. “The Campsite Kids. They…”

Crowley was clearly trying not to start laughing. “They’re not in any danger, Aziraphale. I’ve lived in London since the town was founded. There are extensive histories, courtesy of our local library. You can check.” He winced. “Although...look, I believe there were some murders in the 1800s...but I was asleep, then, I swear.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “Maybe I’ll do just that.” 

The waitress returned with the food, and the two man-shaped beings leaned out of her way, Aziraphale sitting back from the table and Crowley shifting his knees so she could pass without tripping. Yet again, something kind from an It. Aziraphale wasn’t expecting this. He took a bite out of his sandwich, aware of how loud his chewing was when Crowley wasn’t eating himself. The creature seemed like he was staring off into space, watching an exchange at the window outside. Aziraphale turned to look.

A child, about eight, was crying, tugging on her father’s arm, trying to get him to go somewhere with her. The father rounded on her and, judging from his posture and the murmured deep tone that could be heard through the window, seemed to scold her, quickly tugging her along. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Crowley move suddenly, which made him jump. He realized Crowley had been concentrating. He’d just observed predatory behavior in the It.

“Don’t eat children, hmm?” Aziraphale piped up with dry cheerfulness. “What do you call that, then?”

“Hmn?” Crowley tilted his head towards Aziraphale in a way that was almost uncanny enough to be inhuman. “Oh, that,” he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I wasn’t watching her. Well, I was, but not in the way you think.” He took another sip of coffee, which didn’t seem to be emptying in the slightest despite how much he’d been pulling at it during their conversation. “I was looking at her fears.”

Aziraphale paused, sandwich halfway to his lips, and set it down again, primly brushing crumbs from his lips. “But if you’re not hunting her, what’s the point of knowing her fears?”

Crowley sighed deeply and for just a moment, his cheeks looked far more gaunt than before. But he seemed to repair himself as he settled his spine further into the cushion on the booth. “I was looking to see if she was afraid of her father,” he explained, almost tiredly. 

Aziraphale straightened his spine. “Her...father…?”

Crowley nodded, then checked a watch he was wearing on his wrist. It looked far too fancy to be an ordinary watch one could buy in a store. “Shit. I’ve got to go.” He flashed a lopsided grin at Aziraphale. “Feel free to check out the library! Until we meet again.” He stood up, sticking out his hand to shake. As Aziraphale took it, enough money for the bill and a rather nice tip appeared in his hand.

Aziraphale stared at it like Crowley had just handed him a rather large spider. Crowley smirked, pocketing his hands. “Ciao.”

Aziraphale looked up at the clock on the diner’s wall. It was nearing two o’clock in the afternoon, around the time the children would be getting out of school.

The creature of Good shook himself. What an extraordinarily odd encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's a very bad It, just like he's not the best demon. "Eat children, you say? I think not."
> 
> For the sake of easy integration, I made the Deadlights and Maturin more like bosses of Hell and Heaven respectively. So, yes, I know Pennywise is technically THE Deadlights, I played around with the lore a bit to make it fit my purposes. Hope that's okay.
> 
> But if Crowley doesn't eat kids...what exactly DOES he eat? 🤔
> 
> (I'm braving my fear of clowns and horror for this, so. You're welcome!!!)


	3. Chapter 2: Not Mother Goose

Crowley was hungry. 

He hated being hungry. The gnawing feeling of desire pooled in his stomach, aching enough that he barely felt rested, even when sleeping in the sun. 

Like the majority of his kind, he had a true form that was supposed to be more terrifying than any of his other forms. His, however, was just a giant snake, and he often used this form to navigate the sewers or sleep in the sun. He didn’t think it was very terrifying, but there you go, 

So even that which should have revived his true form couldn’t rejuvenate him. He needed to feed, and soon. He knew he couldn’t survive another cycle.

The cycles are arbitrary. They’re basically the amount of time an It can hibernate before it gets hungry again. Crowley, due to the nature of how he hunted, didn’t sleep between cycles. He did once, and only once, back in the 1800s, and regretted it. All those young lives lost...he could’ve saved them…

But best not to dwell on the past. Right now, he was headed to the schoolyard. As he approached, a variety of fears slithered up to him like the scent of a bakery’s fresh pastries. He wouldn’t have minded generally; he was able to ignore most of the waves of fear except if something was particularly useful, but because he hadn’t fed for two cycles (54 years; over half a century), even smaller fears were more distracting. It was partially why the little girl and her father had drawn his attention in the restaurant. His instincts were automatically sliding into their predatory state, and he didn’t exactly want that right this moment.

Crowley stood at the edge of the schoolyard, some distance away from the other parents milling about waiting to pick up their kids. He was only noticeable when he wanted to be, a quality he shared with Aziraphale, no doubt. (He suspected Aziraphale had followed the children to the entrance of his lair, but he couldn’t exactly fault them for it.) It allowed him to blend in seamlessly with the general population, just enough that he was as anonymous as he might’ve been in a larger city. Useful when you’re an immortal being who doesn’t age.

He was actually a bit hesitant to feed, even though he knew he needed to find a meal soon or perish. Or...worse. (But he wasn’t going to do that, fall back on his “purpose,” so to speak, so he didn’t dare think about it. And because he wasn’t going to do that, or even think about it, that ensured it would never happen.) These children hadn’t been rescued, and neither had Jamie, the boy who first brought Jack to him. Jamie had grown up in his care, an orphan from the war. (Both his parents had died on the front line, and then his grandmother, who had been taking care of him, died of old age.) He’d been miserable when Crowley found him, alone and scared and hungry. Crowley had taken him in, explained what he was. Jamie was fearful at first, like most of his children were, but eventually, he realized he was in no danger. Jack, Wren, and Katie had been completely unafraid of him. It was novel.

He smiled to himself. His heart felt warm and his body seemed to be filled with light and heat when he thought of his children. He never forgot them, even the ones that had long ago grown old and passed on. Still had scraps of them in an old trunk; memories of the little families he’d created. 

He saw them come out of the school, Katie, as usual, a few steps ahead, skipping and holding onto the plush rabbit that never got dirty even when she dropped it in sewage. (He made sure of it.) She saw him, and her eyes lit up, bounding towards him, her curls bouncing. Crowley smiled, holding out his arms for her, and she practically leaped into them. “Daddy!” She cried once she was close enough to him. Usually, the little ones were as subtle as a rainbow flag, giving him away even when he was camouflaging himself. Katie was different. He wasn’t sure why, but she had more fears than most children, and that included a fear of being noticed. (He often did her a favor and helped her stay hidden when she was near him. Moving unseen gave her more confidence, and that was always a good thing.)

Crowley accepted her hug, his arms moving to support her slight weight. Wren wrapped her arms around his side in greeting, and Jack, at that weird preteen age where he would rather die than show affection, simply gave a little wave. Crowley waved back, and rested a hand on Wren’s shoulder. “Hello, children.”

“Hey, dad,” Wren looked up at him, biting her lip. “We still haven’t found anyone for you.”

“Yeah,” Jack shuffled his feet, looking despondent. “Sorry.”

Even Katie seemed to commiserate, leaning heavily on his shoulder.

Crowley smiled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. Something will turn up.” He wasn’t about to let on just how desperate he was to feed. He didn’t want them to be scared of him. “Now, speaking of food...shall we go to the diner? I’m sure you must be hungry.”

Wren and Jack looked at each other excitedly and cheered. “Yeah!” 

Katie sat back, beaming like sunshine. “Thanks, daddy!”

“You’re welcome.” Crowley set off with his children in tow, Katie still happily riding in his arms. “Now, tell me all about school. How is everything?” He wasn’t exactly above eating a mean teacher, even if it went outside of his usual modus operandi. 

At the diner, Crowley ordered cheese fries, mostly because the kids would eat most of them for him. He could taste human food, but regardless of flavorings, it always had a bland taste to it. It wasn’t highly nutritious for him, either; if he was in danger of starving, he’d be better off eating an animal than human food. But it was a cover, at least, if he needed one, and besides, it was fun to nibble. The only human substances he could taste were coffee and alcohol...but they were hardly going to do anything for him. 

Crowley chuckled to himself, wondering if he could scare ingredients that went into the food to make it nutritious for him. But even as the thought occurred, he knew it would never be the same. 

He let the chatter of his children wash over him, leaning back in the booth with his coffee, relaxing. He felt sleepy and as content as he was going to be without a substantial meal. But it was enough. 

He was distracted by a sudden spike of fear from Katie, who had sunk into his side, hiding her face from view. Immediately, Crowley wrapped his arms around her, fully prepared to bear his fangs at the stranger that had frightened her…

Until he recognized Aziraphale striding towards him with purpose. He smiled. “Nothing to worry about,” he soothed Katie, looking up at Wren and Jack. “Look after her, will you? Don’t worry if the bill comes; I’ll be back in a moment.” He ran his fingers soothingly through Katie’s hair, replacing him with her stuffed rabbit, and then slid out of the booth. 

“Hey, Aziraphale! Long time no see!”


	4. Wrong Place

Aziraphale had gone to the library as suggested by Crowley. It should have, reasonably, been one of his first stops, if for nothing else than because he loved books more than very nearly anything, but it had escaped his notice. 

That was, however, probably because it was wedged onto a corner between two shops, and looked as old as the town itself, faded brown brick slathered on its sides haphazardly spoke of the old building weathering many storms. The steps were a bit crooked, so that Aziraphale had to hold onto the sturdy railing lest he fall off, even though there were only three of them. A faded sign declared the library’s posted hours, but had no other indication that it was, in fact, a library. 

Upon entering, though, Aziraphale felt at home in that unique way he always felt around books. Clever little humans and their need to celebrate the creativity of individuals by building shrines to them. There was a middle-aged woman with thin, graying hair dressed in a garish cat sweater and a long skirt with wool socks despite the mild weather sitting at the center desk that a hanging sign overhead told him was the “circulation” desk. He walked up to her and cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, miss, but where would I find articles on the history of London?”

The woman peered up at him through small, circular glasses. “There’s a collection of old newspapers in the back by the windows. Mind the dust.” And she placidly returned to typing on her computer.

Aziraphale wandered back through the stacks, the comforting scent of old books surrounding him. He didn’t have a lot of reasons to come to Earth, because Maturin thought it best to observe from afar, so when he did, it was always quite a treat to see how much things had changed in a relatively small amount of time. 

There weren’t many people in the library, which he was expecting seeing as it was a nice day outside, but he could tell from the few bookworms milling about that the place was well-loved. 

As Crowley had told him there would be, Aziraphale found a section all about local history. There were a few larger tomes, mostly about geography and topography, that looked like research books, mostly. There were some biographies about important people who had lived in London, but that didn’t interest Aziraphale right now. He found the big scrapbook-looking thing that held articles from old newspapers, saying back to the 30s, judging from the headlines about the Great Depression. 

Aziraphale sat down at one of the long tables, just out of direct sunlight to mind the old pages, and scanned the photos and articles for anything interesting. Crowley had implied the nature of his meals, but he needed to confirm it for himself. Deadlight creatures are good liars. They have to be, in order to hunt and feed. And although Aziraphale had sensed that Crowley was far from being at full power (or in good health, as they were related), the creature was not completely starved. He had eaten throughout the years. And as Aziraphale read, he found evidence of that. 

“Local father gone missing,” Aziraphale read aloud. It was a snippet of an article from the mid 30s. David Baker, a father of four, had been last seen at a bar. Aziraphale frowned. “Now, why would he do that, if he says he loves kids?” However, a follow-up article explained that for him: Baker has been convicted of murdering his wife Sandra, leaving their four children orphans. There was a picture of the children with a very familiar figure in the background. 

Crowley had obviously updated his look, but even with a wide-brimmed hat covering his eyes, Aziraphale recognized him. He’d obviously taken the orphans in. And in that time period, when America was so poor, it would’ve gone unnoticed. But the children thrived; apparently, one of them grew up to be Mayor! 

Aziraphale kept reading, intrigued. Throughout the years, men and women went missing here and there. No mass killings, no murders (except, as Crowley had told him, in the 1800s, when a man killed ten children throughout one summer; he’d mysteriously wound up dead, missing an arm and a leg at the mouth of an old sewer). The only major upset seemed to be the closing of the campground in the early 1900s when locals reported non-native snakes and strange voices coming from the trees. 

So, the old campground was his lair. Aziraphale had thought as much. (Who would want to live in a sewer, anyway? Nonsense!) 

The most surprising thing to Aziraphale was that the children didn’t always end up in his care. The town reported that children would play near the sewers, warning parents of potential hazards, but sometimes these children he’d rescued had a remaining parent, or went to live with a grandparent or relative. 

There was something the human newspapers couldn’t tell him, though; how exactly did Crowley find his prey? This clearly wasn’t an opportunistic killing style; each victim was a truly rotten person who had brought harm to children in some way. 

Did the children…

Did they confide in him? Did they trust him? Did they tell him their secrets and woes? Had Crowley promised to fix their problems? 

He wanted to know what had led Crowley to turn away from his purpose. What made him decide that he would rescue children instead of eating them? 

The last page of the scrapbook showed a map of London and its surrounding towns, Ludlow and Derry. Staring at the map, Aziraphale focused on Derry for just a moment. The map was illustrated with little drawings meant to represent the major industries of each town. Ludlow has little factories, London had little fish (apparently, it had been well known for fish at one point, but who knew the truth of that now), and Derry had little horse and carts for trade. 

However…

Something felt...off, about Derry. Aziraphale couldn’t quite explain it. He felt sick to his stomach, and his head ached. It was similar to the sense that he’d gotten from Crowley, only Crowley just gave him a feeling of Not Human. This...this was much worse. 

“No,” Aziraphale murmured, trailing his fingers across the town’s name engraved on the map. “It can’t be...that’s not possible!” But he didn’t know if it was or not. He only knew what behaviors of Its he’d been taught by Maturin, after all, and Maturin might not know all that much. 

Well, clearly he didn’t. 

“Maturin was wrong,” Aziraphale told himself, shutting the book and respelling it quickly as if it was burning him to touch it. As soon as it was safely back in place, he went out to find Crowley.

The image of a little dancing clown sitting on the corner of Derry’s map seemed to echo like laughter in his mind.


	5. Ducks Have Ears

“Crowley,” Aziraphale pouted irritably, narrowing his eyes at the creature. “Now is not the time to be flippant!” He tried to turn his lips downwards into a snarl, but wasn’t aware that it just looked like he was having bowel troubles. 

Crowley did a perfect imitation of a child being scolded by a teacher, pocketing his hands. “Right, sorry, I’m listening. But be quick, won’t you? I have to get back to the children.”

“For all that you say you love children,” Aziraphale said in a low voice that was somehow more angry in tone than it might have been had he spoken at full volume, “you’ve let their murders go right under your nose!”

Crowley deflated. He wasn’t expecting an agent of Good to cut right into the event that had been a source of guilt for him for at least a hundred years, if not more. But, divine anger, and all that. “Ah…” he ran a hand through his hair, looking down at his feet. “Look...I didn’t know at the time...I went to sleep before that man even came to London. Suppose I shouldn’t have turned off my awareness like that, but I hadn’t slept in years, and frankly, I was exhausted.”

Aziraphale took a mental step back. Crowley thought he was talking about the murders. Despite himself, he felt sorry for the creature, this strange It who had gone against his purpose to make life better for the children here. He truly had no knowledge of Derry, or the other It that lived nearby. Hesitantly, he put his hand on Crowley’s thin shoulder, and the creature looked up at him, face full of misery and guilt that was obvious even with his sunglasses on. 

“That isn’t what I meant,” Aziraphale replied. “Remember how I was saying Maturin sent me here to stop an It from eating kids? Well, I’ve found something rather interesting. You see-“

Crowley straightened up, silencing Aziraphale with a steady hand on his shoulder. “Look, let’s talk later. I need to get the kids home,” he thumbed behind him where the children were looking curiously over at them. “I’ll come to you, wherever you like. Where are you staying?”

Aziraphale blinked, once again stunned at Crowley’s ability to get things under control. “I have rooms over the bar, the, erm…”

“The Mallard,” Crowley nodded. “Right. And who do I say I’m there to see?” 

“I’m staying under the name A.Z. Fell.”

Crowley smirked. “Bit on the nose, isn’t it?” He turned to head back to the table. “I’ll meet you there. About ten-ish?”

“Yes, that works for me,” Aziraphale half-called, wondering if Crowley has heard him at all, with the way his attention was so obviously narrowed to the children before him. A wave of genuine love wafted over to him from the table, long, thick lines that trailed from Crowley to each of the children, and were returned tenfold, especially by the youngest, who jumped up to capture him in a hug as he returned to the booth. 

Aziraphale shook his head fondly, chuckling, and turned to head back to the library. Maybe he could find something useful about Derry, like a map, or records of disappearances. It might give him a clue about his target’s proclivities. 

~

“Are you goin out tonight, dad?” Jack looked up from the comic book he had propped against his pillow. Long ago, Crowley had procured actual beds for the children in addition to the tents he kept around for colder weather, when it wasn’t pleasant to sleep under the stars. 

He liked the stars. It made sense, seeing as he’d come from them.

“Shh,” Crowley cautioned, indicating Wren and Katie, who were already asleep. “Don’t wake them up. It’s okay. You don’t need to worry about what I’m doing.” He smiled. “I’ll be back before you miss me.”

“Are you going hunting?” Jack asked, eyes wide, sitting up quick as a whip on the bed. “That’s so cool! Can I watch? I wanna see you eat!”

Crowley chuckled, playfully bearing his fangs and letting out a low hiss. “Be careful what you wisssh for,” he teased, making Jack laugh. “No, I’m not. Nothing for me to hunt.” Not yet, anyway, he thought. It seemed like Aziraphale had found something promising. 

And while Crowley wouldn’t exactly consider himself a force for good, there was no denying that he and the Good One had a mission in common; to protect the children. And he’d do that, even at the risk of getting thrown away by Mother Deadlight. If she even cared all that much to begin with. 

Jack smiled, then settled back down into his bed with a wistful frown. Crowley felt a spike of fear from him and raised an eyebrow, “You’re still reading that comic, eh?” He strode to Jack’s side, peering down at the pages sprawled out on the pillow. The horrific creature only known as “Alien” seemed to leap out from the pages, its terrible fangs beared, second mouth about to snap at a terrified crewman. “Serves you right if you get nightmares, reading that before bedtime.” He knew that creature as a fear quite well. Brave older children who thought they were “too grown-up” for cartoons had taken to watching sci-fi films just like that one. It only resulted in an assault of fear on Crowley, which, as we’ve established, wasn’t welcome right now.

Jack shook his head. “‘M not afraid,” he protested.

Crowley rolled his eyes fondly, plucking the comic from Jack’s pillow. “Won’t do you any good to lie about that to me, Jack. My whole thing is sensing fears.”

“Could you make yourself look like Alien?” Jack asked, letting Crowley pull up the covers and tuck him in. “If you were gonna, um...y’know...go to town on ‘em?”

Crowley ran his tongue across the roof of his mouth to make sure his fangs were hidden away. His mouth was wet with saliva, his stomach on the edge of a growl. Yes, “Alien” was a fear even adults had, and he couldn’t say that he hadn’t thought about borrowing that form to make sure a prey item was good and terrified before he “went to town” on them, as Jack had so eloquently put it. 

“I could,” the creature replied carefully, “but it would only work if they were afraid of them.” He’d learned over time that it was better to answer the questions his children asked him. Even though he might’ve been terrifying at times, he was no danger to them. And they trusted him. 

And he trusted himself.

Jack yawned, and Crowley smiled. “Don’t think about it anymore,” he told Jack softly, ruffling his hair fondly. “Go to sleep. I’ll be back before dawn.”

“Mmkay,” Jack rolled over onto his stomach and soon, his breathing evened out. 

Crowley glanced around the campsite, making sure the children were all fast asleep, before concentrating hard on changing his form. He slipped into his not-quite-true-but-close-enough form; a giant red and black snake with golden eyes and copper highlights around the edge of his scales. The red on his underbelly seemed to glisten like garnets. This was the form that allowed him to make the most use out of his Deadlights. If he concentrated and opened his mouth wide enough, the serpentine throat would cease to be and a cold, orange light would spread forth, stunning his prey as easily as venom.

Maybe it was foolish of him to use his true form when he was so hungry, but the thing was, he wasn’t even tempted to make a meal of his own family. He supposed that was what separated him from a true opportunistic predator. Other Its would have a field day. And speaking of... 

Crowley slid down the sewer pipe and into the grass on the riverbank. The water would be as cold as ice this time of night, and the serpentine creature wasn’t keen on being cold; in fact, he loathed it more than very nearly anything. The serpent raised its head, sliding smoothly back into his familiar human form. Adjusting his sunglasses, the wayward It made his way through London’s sleepy streets and down to The Mallard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....I need to think of better chapter titles.
> 
> Anyway, Pennywise's killings for this cycle are gonna be out of order, just FYI. If that bothers you, then...oh well! :3


	6. Best Laid Plans

Crowley made his way to the upstairs lodgings of the bar unnoticed, which was his preferred way of navigating. Life was so much easier, especially in a small town, when people weren’t recognizing you and asking after your health and how are the kids, the wife, the job, etc.? 

The fact that he got asked these questions at all was a testament to how hard he’d worked to blend in over the years, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t irritating as all get-out.

Crowley stretched out his senses as he reached the upstairs hallway. There were four doors for him to choose from, and Aziraphale was behind one of them. Only two of the rooms were occupied, and Crowley knew that the door he was facing held Aziraphale within; his powerful eyes showed him a warm, glowing, golden silhouette sitting in what was presumably a chair, possibly before a warm fire, given the temperature of the outdoors and the draft that tended to permeate these rooms. There was a human in the other room. No...two humans, going at it in a rather spectacular way, in fact. The man’s fears about his, erm...genitalia...being too small to please his lady companion blew past him like a breeze. (Crowley absolutely was not interested in sex of any kind, least of all the dirty, smelly, and moist human kind.)

Well, Crowley thought as he rapped his knuckles against the door, that was one way to lose his appetite.

“Come in!” Aziraphale called from behind the door. 

Crowley slipped inside as easily as water, shedding his partial invisibility as he did so. When he turned from shutting the door, he saw Aziraphale was in the middle of dinner; steak and potatoes and a rather delightful house ale were sat on a little TV dinner tray. There was a fire going in the grate, which Crowley was eternally grateful for; a light rain had started outside, and he was slightly damp. (His children would be fine, shielded by the large trees overhead. He always made sure of that.) The It sunk down heavily into the chair across from Aziraphale with a lazy smirk. “Sorry, am I interrupting dinner?”

“No, no, not at all,” Aziraphale replied in polite dismissal. “Though I do feel rather guilty that you can’t join me…”

The smirk on Crowley’s lips turned mischievous. “Well, the way I eat isn’t exactly...easy on the eyes, shall we say? Don’t have the best table manners, me.” He folded his hands across his stomach, sinking further into the plush chair and swallowing down a yawn.

“Oh, of course,” Aziraphale replied, looking away in embarrassment. It was endearing that he’d seemingly forgotten Crowley was a creature that could only feast on humans to survive. “Still. I don’t suppose I could get you a glass of this…” he waved at it absently.

“Don’t worry,” Crowley dismissed. “What is it you wanted to discuss? It sounded important.”

“Only I thought,” Aziraphale piped up, clearly on a different train of thought. Crowley sighed, frustrated that he was already endeared to this bumbling creature of the Light. “Well, you had food this afternoon. I saw an extra plate.”

Crowley rolled his shoulders, really fighting off the urge to stretch the laziness out of his bones. “It was really for Wren. She’s at that age where the other girls start talking about diets and weight gain and such. It’s been tainting her fears lately, and I just wanted to help her. I suspect she’s giving away her lunches at school.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Oh. That’s...kind of you.”

Crowley shrugged, tracing a pattern on his jeans with his nail. “It’s my job to look after her--look, are we going to talk business or what?” He snapped suddenly. On top of everything else, he was exhausted. And the prospect of meeting another of his kind that was possibly older, wiser, and better fed wasn’t exactly helping. ...If that was even what Aziraphale was implying.

“I just can’t understand…” Aziraphale began, carving into his steak and taking a prim, polite bite, “how you never noticed…”

“Deadlight Creatures are territorial by nature,” Crowley replied. “We don’t interact much. If we did, we’d wipe out entire populations! Imagine two Its working together for more than just mating!”

“You mate?” Aziraphale peered at him as if he’d grown an extra head. (Not outside the realm of possibility, but he hadn’t.) Then, he seemed to shake himself, remembering his purpose. “Anyway. I suspect the It I’m meant to be hunting resides in Derry, the town neighboring this one.” He sucked a mouthful of potatoes off his fork. “And though it’s odd for us to be working on the same side, I feel it’s necessary.”

Crowley hummed. “Well, like I said, it’s not impossible...I’d never have entered his territory before out of habit...”

“Then it’s settled,” Aziraphale wiggled in delight. “We go to Derry in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I ever have good titles? Why do I even bother?
> 
> Y'know, I feel like I'm rushing through this story, and I don't...really care. We all just came here for the...pfft...clownery anyway.
> 
> *laughs like Pennywise*


	7. Glamour Alike

“C’mon, man,” Richie complained, fiddling with his glasses. “We’re bully bait out here!”

“I’ve got-ta wait for Georgie,” Bill explained, digging his toe absently against the side of the trashcan. “Mom s-said it’s t-too dangerous for Georgie to walk alone.”

Richie made a dismissive sound, restlessly turning in a semi-circle to check for Henry Bowers and his gang of psycho greasers. “Your mom’s almost as nuts as Eddie’s. I was walkin’ home by myself when I was five!”

“Hey!” Eddie protested, elbowing Richie in the shoulder. “My mom just looks out for me, that’s all!”

“Yeah, by makin ya scared of your own shadow!” Richie pulled a face and spoke in a high-pitched tone, “Edward!!! Did you remember to sanitize yer shadow before you came in the house? Remember shadows spread geeerrrrrmmmssss.”

“You motherfucker!” Eddie snarled, slapping at Richie, who was ducking and pushing away his futille attacks.

Bill rolled his eyes, deciding it was better to let the two fight. Honestly, Richie acted like the guy who would pull on a girl’s pigtails when he liked her with Eddie sometimes. It was embarrassing. 

As he was watching the school entrance for Georgie, he saw a woman he vaguely recognized standing on the edge of the grass yard they were standing on. She was smoking and pacing slightly, looking very worried. 

“Hey,” he said sharply, which was enough to stop Eddie and Richie from bickering for the moment. “Why do I recognize that lady?” 

“That’s Betty Ripsom’s mom,” Eddie replied. “She does a lotta PTA stuff. My mom’s seen her at meetings.” He frowned. “She looks worried.”

“Betty’s in my homeroom,” Richie said, pocketing his hands. “I heard that she was crying in the bathroom because she cuts. But nobody saw her after lunch.”

Bill stared curiously at Mrs. Ripsom. He felt like that might be important, considering that kid, Mike, did a presentation on all the weird shit that went down in Derry through the years. How a new kid already knew so much about Derry was beyond him, though.

“Billy!” 

“Georgie!” Bill lit up, seeing his little brother bounding down the stairs towards him. “High five!” He held up his hand and Georgie smacked it, hard. “Did you have a good last day?”

“Yeah! It was lotsa fun!” Georgie grinned, holding up a poorly made paper boat. “We learned paper crafts today! Mine’s not seaworthy, though.”

“Hey, Georgie,” Richie bent down and pointed to the boat. “Has your ship got any sea-men?”

Bill kicked Richie’s shin.

“Ey! Whawasssat for?” Richie cried.

“You know d-damn well.” Bill narrowed his eyes at Richie while Georgie was still considering the question.

“No, I don’t think my boat’s got any crew,” Georgie decided. “‘S only big enough for one.”

“C’mon, Georgie,” Bill encouraged, looking over his shoulder at Mrs. Ripsom, who was nervously talking to one of the teachers hanging around outside, “I’ll fix your boat for you.”

“Yay!” Georgie hopped off the lip of the curb and jogged along beside Bill while Richie and Eddie, still bickering as usual, trailed behind.

Little did they know that this summer was about to take a turn for the strange.

~

Betty tried to choke back her tears, biting down on her knuckles. The bathroom was empty and echoing, and outside, on the recess playground, she could hear the whoops and hollars of her classmates. 

But she didn’t want to go outside. She didn’t want to be found.

The girl sniffed, tugging down the long sleeves of her tee shirt. It was too hot to be wearing long sleeves, but she wanted to hide her self-harm scars. Her poor mother, who worked so hard tending to her disabled father, didn’t need anything else to worry about. It wasn’t her fault that Betty thought she was broken.

The bathroom door opened and footsteps approached. Betty held her breath, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t be discovered by one of the teachers or worse, by another bully. Please, she thought, I’ll go back to class after recess. Please go away.

A pair of Mary Janes stepped before the door. Betty held her breath...

Two fists pounded relentlessly on the door, rattling the rusty old lock. “Betty,” came a sing-song voice. It was Greta, the class bully and the pharmacist's daughter. Betty hid her face as tears fell down her cheeks. “Betty,” Greta’s voice continued.

Betty cried out as the door began to come off its hinges and the Mary Janes transformed into clown shoes. “Betty,” growled an unfamiliar voice, “I’m here to take you home.”

Betty’s screams were silenced forever. And no adults would take notice. At least...not for a very long time.

As Mrs. Ripsom talked anxiously to a teacher, a man dressed in a clown suit went whistling on his way, the torn sleeve of a tee shirt hanging around his neck.

~

Crowley did not want to put his own children in danger.

Aziraphale had told him about the other It, the other Glamour, that lived in the next town over. It made him sick to his stomach to think he had been miles away from so much death (for of course he knew the damage his own kind were capable of) and just out of habit, out of some sort of interspecies politeness, he’d never thought to look into it. 

There were so many more lives that he could have saved. And if this Glamour was a proper one, and killing to eat his fill, then surely, he’d be much more powerful than Crowley, who was a picky eater, and thus was rarely properly nourished. Crowley wouldn’t change his personality for the world, but the fact that he might have to fight this creature who was stronger than he was...it was terrifying, if only because it could kill him, and then devour his children.

He was sure it wouldn’t come to that. Aziraphale, at the very least, would step in to do his duty. 

Well, hopefully he would. Maturin and his agents were not exactly known for quick action.

Crowley knew he couldn’t leave London without bringing his children with him. If he was going to be entering the territory of another It, he risked making the creature angry enough to invade his own territory, and he didn’t want to put Wren, Jack, or Katie in that scenario.

On the other hand, the Campsite Kids had never encountered another It before. He wasn’t like others of his kind, and even though he could be terrifying, his kindness was genuine. This other Glamour was not genuine, and only wanted a meal.

He’d have to tell his children to stick together. Who knew what they might be up against.

Crowley flopped down into his hammock with a groan, gazing up at the stars. He wondered if he was meant to be an agent of Maturin instead, if Gan the Other had created him for one purpose and then forced him into another. Though from what he knew of Maturin, he wouldn’t do so well as an agent of Good. How can you call yourself an agent of Good and yet let children die?! 

No, Crowley was better as a rogue Glamour. At least Mother Deadlight hardly paid attention to him anymore.

The It looked over at his children sleeping peacefully under his protection and smiled fondly. With how hungry he was, there was no use trying to sleep. 

It was best to wait until dawn, to see what the next day would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just to clarify: I'm ace, but I don't hate sex or people who enjoy sex. I'm personally sex-repulsed, and this is how I view Crowley, especially as an It/Glamour. 
> 
> In the context of this character, he doesn't understand sex or adult pleasures. He finds it gross. In a lot of ways, he kinda thinks like a kid, considering that's meant to be his primary prey, even if he chooses not to eat them.
> 
> Also, Glamours apparently just gorge themselves for a year. Oof.


	8. Outskirts of Derry

Aziraphale was feeling confident that this was the best course of action. After all, he had been sent to Earth specifically to get rid of a creature that was ruining the lives of children, something that had gone on long enough and needed to stop. He didn’t need to sleep, of course, so he hadn’t, but he felt well-rested after exchanging information about the creature with Crowley. 

“We’re called Glamours,” Crowley had said, sprawling his legs out towards the fire, feet nearly touching the flames. “Probably because we put on disguises, to hide our true nature.”

“Which is the Deadlights, isn’t it?” Aziraphale had asked curiously, staring at his would-be adversary. “Those bright, orange lights that burn at your core.”

“Yes.” Crowley had said curtly, clearly wanting to talk about something else at this point. “We all have forms we favor, but our true forms are less concrete than the human eye can comprehend.”

Aziraphale respectfully changed the subject after that, letting Crowley talk about London for a bit. He wondered if he’d ever see Crowley’s true form. Because he could...but only if Crowley let him. Creatures of Good were made innately polite. 

It was still early in the morning, a light rain adding to the sleepy gloom of the edge of Derry. Suburbs of sleepy houses lying pressed together like kittens in the nest stretched in the distance. From here, the bright lights of a movie theatre reflected off the damp streets. A streetlight flickered above their heads. Crowley blinked up into it, stepping just out of range of its pool of light. He was scowling. 

“I don’t like this,” he murmured, teeth growing sharper in his skull, hair seeming to poof out and up, the style of it becoming sharper. It reminded Aziraphale of a spooked cat. 

“It’s awake, then?” Aziraphale turned towards Crowley. He was holding an umbrella, deciding he didn’t fancy getting wet. “The other It?”

Crowley didn’t have an umbrella, for he was holding a half-asleep Katie in his arms instead. Wren and Jack, I similar states of drowsiness, stood on either side of him. Wren was hugging herself, shivering slightly in the cool air, and Jack was listing against Crowley’s side, yawning. 

The Glamour held Katie tighter, his eyes glowing faintly from behind his sunglasses. He nodded, teeth many and sharp. If the children noticed, they weren’t afraid, but Aziraphale could sense a change in Crowley’s aura, a prickliness that smelled like a mother bear protecting its young. “Ngk. I...it feels wrong just to be here. Especially with my young.” 

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. Yes, a mother protecting her children indeed. He wondered if Crowley noticed the unfamiliar descriptor. “Well, we’ve come all this way. It would be a shame not to do what we are destined to do.” 

“What you’re destined to do, you mean,” Crowley snapped. “I’m under no obligation to help you. I could turn around right now, and…” 

Jack stepped away from him, touching his arm. “Dad,” he said, sounding much more awake now, “didn’t you want to hunt here? Isn’t that the point?”

Wren glanced in Aziraphale’s direction and narrowed her eyes. The children had only been officially introduced to him this morning, and didn’t exactly trust him. How ironic, considering Crowley’s created purpose. “You shouldn’t have to stay ‘cause of him,” she said. “But I’m not scared.”

Katie snuggled into Crowley’s shoulder. “Yeah, daddy,” she yawned. “You’ll protect us.” 

Crowley softened. His eyes ceased to glow and his teeth all retracted, save for two sharp canines. They weren’t very long; at least, not long enough to be frightening. But it was clear to Aziraphale that Crowley wasn’t fully at ease. 

For a minute, the rain beating on his umbrella drowned out the silence. 

Crowley set Katie down and she immediately clung to her aunt. The It knelt down before his children, gazing at them seriously. “You don’t need to be afraid,” he told them. “I don’t want you to be. Katie’s right: I will protect you. But,” he sighed. “This...isn’t home.” He spread a hand out to the town before him. “There are more of me out there. I didn’t think it was possible, especially so close, but it seems as if this is the case. I want to stop the other one, because he isn’t anything like me.” 

Wren and Jack looked at each other over Katie’s head and nodded solemnly. Katie hugged her rabbit doll close to her. Crowley waited for them all to look at him again, and then he continued. 

“Stay together. Go nowhere alone, and go nowhere I can’t see you. The sewers here are not safe like they are in London. If you see anyone strange, or hear anything from below ground, you come to me. But come together. Understand?” 

The children nod. Aziraphale is impressed; Crowley’s voice is stern and so far removed from the way he normally talks to them (at least in his brief observations). They trust him and love him, and they are good kids, despite their reputation. 

Katie points. “Y’ve got fangs, daddy,” she giggles. 

Crowley looks confused for a moment, opening his mouth slightly and flicking his tongue over his front teeth. “Oh!” He says brightl. “So I do! But you’ve seen my snake form. That’s all it is.” But when he smiles, his teeth are back to normal. 

Katie nods, wrapping her arms around his neck. Crowley lifts her up again as he stands to full height. Jack and Wren, at his side, hold hands tightly. Crowley nods over to Aziraphale. “Go stand under his umbrella, you two. You’ll catch your death.” He waves his hand and a blanket appears. He uses this to cover Katie in his arms. 

The older children hesitatingly wander over towards Aziraphale, and the angelic creature extends the size of his umbrella to fit them all comfortably underneath. “We should find an inn,” Aziraphale said. “It’s still quite early. I doubt even the Glamour will be out hunting at this hour.”

Crowley nodded. His eyes were glowing faintly again, clearly uneasy. It really must have felt awful to infiltrate such a clear territorial line. “I’ll follow your lead, angel.”

“Angel?” Aziraphale chuckled. “That’s a new one.”

“Dad thought your name sounded like something out of the Bible,” Wren explained. Jack yawned. 

Aziraphale smiled. ‘Well, yes, I suppose it is a bit archaic.”

They walked in peace for some time, past the sleeping houses, their shapes rising out of the thin rain like mountains. Their feet sloshed in the water already crowding into the road that stretched out before them.

“You’re aware, aren’t you,” Aziraphale addressed the children, “that the one you refer to as your father may hunt and feed while we are here.”

Jack nodded, grinning. “It’ll be cool,” he said. “Wonder if he’ll look like Alien!”

“Nuh,” Wren shook her head. “He said when he goes to feed, everything becomes really bright, and if we saw it, then we had to look away and close our eyes.”

“Yeah, but,” Jack interjected impatiently, “wonder if it looks like Alien underneath the lights!”

“Oh,” Wren shrugged, yawning. “Guess we’ll never know.”

“It’s probably better that you don’t,” Aziraphale told them. “They’re called Deadlights. Those that see them are stunned into submission or go mad.”

“You say that like you think dad’ll hurt us,” Wren glared at him, her mouth a firm line. The rain had made her curls frizzy, and she looked like quite the creature herself. “Don’t you trust him?”

“I do,” Aziraphale said primly, though it was unconvincing. “I just am well aware of what his kind are capable of, that’s all. I must be on my guard.” 

“If you think he’s going to eat us,” Jack said darkly, “then you don’t know him very well.”

Wren nodded, the hardness in her dark eyes remaining. “He knows all of our fears. We know what he looks like in his other forms. We’ve seen his teeth.” She looked over her shoulder, and Aziraphale followed her gaze. Crowley’s hair was plastered to his forehead, and he looked pale and chilled by the rain. But Katie, fast asleep on his shoulder, was dry under the blanket. There wasn’t even one drop of rain on her shoes, which were hanging out of the bottom of the blanket. “But he’d never use any of that on us.”

“He protects us,” Jack said, kicking a rock into a nearby puddle. “Don’t matter if he’s meant to or not. He just does.”

Aziraphale thought about the creature they were hunting, and tried to think of any similarities between the proper Glamour and the rogue Crowley. He found very few, but it didn’t ease his doubt. After all, creatures of Evil had little capacity for Good if it didn’t serve them. 

And Glamours could be very charming.

“I wish I had your faith,” Aziraphale sighed.

“You’ll see,” Wren said with certainty. 

Aziraphale smiled at her. “Maybe I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes that are more spoilery for IT 2017 than this fic, so if you care about being spoiled for that, just skip these.
> 
> In the film, Ben is the one who knows all about Derry. In the original miniseries, it's Mike, who learned it from his father. I'm giving that role back to Mike, even though I'm sticking with the orphan storyline, because it makes more sense that someone who's lived in or near Derry all his life would know about Derry's history than Ben. Also, Ben's main storyline was with Beverly, so I'm keeping that. I like the idea of him mooning over Beverly. It's cute. 
> 
> /END spoilers/
> 
> On a side note, I find it hard to write in the kills because I'm a little baby when it comes to intense horror like that, so from now on, just expect the deaths to be mentioned, like they are in the film. 
> 
> I feel like the last chapter was so bad. Sorry about that. Future chapters will (hopefully) be of a slightly higher quality.


	9. Trust in Me

Aziraphale finally found them a hotel, a tiny little thing with VACANCY in big, neon letters over the parking lot. With a little help from his powers, he procured a room with a king-sized bed, which could comfortably fit the children. It didn’t matter if Jack was technically not biologically related to Wren and Katie; they were siblings as far as they were concerned. And siblings could temporarily share a bed. 

Crowley made them brush their teeth and change out of their wet clothes while he made fresh nightclothes for them. Then, the children all crawled into bed, Katie snuggling up to Wren and Jack facing towards the window. After a few moments, they were asleep, and the hotel room was quiet. 

Aziraphale, who had been observing the nighttime routine from a comfortable armchair, now stretched, seeking to make the cheap chair more comfortable at its base with his powers. “I hope this is adequate, dear chap,” he said to Crowley, who was burrowed into the end of the ratty sofa, weaving his fingers through the air to create clothes for his children to wear in the morning. His hand motions made it look like he was knitting, his tongue trapped between his front teeth as he concentrated. “I didn’t want to presume to use my powers if you had something in mind.”

“Nah,” Crowley replied, distracted. “‘S better that you did it, anyway. I’m trying to stay under the Glamour’s radar as much as possible. Something as reality-altering as a hotel reservation would’ve clued him in that I was here, and then we’d have him on our tail.” He set aside a little pink backpack clearly meant for Katie and set about stitching up a jacket for Jack. “If he’s anything like me, he has influence over the entire town, so it’s not like we’ll stay invisible for long, but I’d like my kids at least to have one night where he isn’t actively hunting them.” He tilted his head in the low light, carefully designing an Alien patch for the jacket’s sleeve. 

“Right,” Aziraphale said in a tone that indicated he didn’t understand what Crowley was talking about. He inclined his head towards the window, watching the way the street lamps played over the wet street. “Do you think he’s out there, then? The Glamour, I mean. Hunting.”

“No doubt,” Crowley replied. “It’s been 27 years. He’s hungry.” The creature shuddered as if chilled, and Aziraphale realized that Crowley was still soaking wet. 

“Why don’t you take a hot shower?” Aziraphale offered kindly. “I can watch the children for a moment.”

Crowley huffed out a little half-chuckle, setting aside the jacket. “You still don’t trust me, do you?”

Aziraphale puffed up, defensive. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I can practically taste your hunger from where I’m sitting!”

“And I,” Crowley grinned, “can taste your fear.” His tongue, suddenly formed like a serpent’s, flickered out to taste the air. “Even after all you’ve seen, you’re afraid that when faced with the other Glamour that I will join him, and you’ll have to face us both alone.” He tilted his head, his tongue flickering against his thin lips as if he was tasting a lollipop. “Oh,” he said. “Of course. You’re afraid you won’t be enough alone.” 

Aziraphale stuttered, his hands fluttering in his lap. “I-I’m not sure what you mean…”

“It’s wise not to lie to me about your fears,” Crowley replied, his eyes flashing a golden-orange hue from behind the glasses. “Just like it’d be pointless to lie to you about my hunger. Yes, you’re right.” The glow in his eyes faded and he bowed his head, looking very small. “I’m famished, completely. I haven’t fed for two cycles, and even then, I never gorge myself. I’m weak, and I will die without a meal.” He sighed deeply. “Now, knowing that, what does that tell you?” 

Aziraphale frowned. “You have a more than adequate food supply, and not just your own. I saw families galore in London, trusting children that aren’t afraid to get close. You could have eaten them all easily.” 

Crowley smiled. “And yet?”

“And yet,” Aziraphale realized, “you didn’t. I still can’t fathom it, though. Why you would go against your nature.”

“Because children are innocent.” Crowley replied simply. “Life is hard enough for them. And yes, they’re easy prey, as far as that logic goes. Trusting, easy to frighten.” He folded himself off the couch and sat beside Katie’s sleeping form. “I know all of their fears automatically. They hit me like the most delicious of scents. And when I’m so hungry…” Crowley’s cheeks became gaunt, his figure hunched over and thin, clothes leaning away from his already lean form. He looked sickly in the shadows and, just from broadcasting this, Aziraphale could feel the hunger more intensely, like a shovel had scooped out his insides and only a gaping hole remained. 

“Stop,” Aziraphale pleaded. “It...oh God...it hurts…” He groaned, massaging his temples. The pain was unbearable, and there was no escaping it. This was how Crowley felt all the time?! For years now?!

The intense waves of pain bled away as a gentle hand touched his arm. When he lowered his hands, Crowley was looking at him, eyes just barely visible over the tops of his sunglasses. They didn’t glow, but they did sparkle like gemstones, and their pupils were black slits, as dark as the voids in the Macroverse. But he was back to normal, no longer horrific. 

“I’m sorry,” Crowley apologized, which startled Aziraphale. 

“Why on Earth-?” Aziraphale sat forward, returning the light pressure on Crowley’s form. “Dear boy, it’s I who should apologize. I had no idea…”

“So you see,” Crowley said, his voice pained, “how insulting that is to me. I’m more than just a Glamour, Aziraphale. Please. You have to believe that. I’m more than just...what Mother Deadlight wants me to be.” He stood up, stretching. “I'm not a monster. At least, not one children need to be afraid of.” 

Aziraphale smiled at him shyly. “No. I suppose you aren’t. What a wonderful thing you truly are.” 

“Ngk,” Crowley looked away, his face coloring pink. “Think I’ll take you up on that shower, angel,” he said nervously, retreating to the bathroom. “I’m chilled to the bone.” 

Aziraphale nodded. “An excellent idea, my dear fellow. I shall keep watch.” 

He watched Crowley wander off towards the shower, listening to the water through the thin walls. He watched the children sleep before him, at ease even somewhere unfamiliar. 

Crowley was right; he wasn’t just a Glamour. Being on Earth and making the choices he’d made transformed him into something more...human. 

Aziraphale was beginning to think he was rather glad Crowley was not his target after all. The It had so much to teach him.


	10. Good Kids Hunting

“Oh!” Aziraphale jumped, startled. “You’ve changed your hair!”

Crowley, who had been attempting to tame the new mane of auburn curls artfully falling around his shoulders and combing stringy bangs into his eyes, raised an eyebrow at him. “Problem?”

“No, no,” Aziraphale replied. “It’s just...different, I suppose.”

“Well, this is the fashion, so Jack tells me,” Crowley replied, sliding his fingers down his jacket. Where he touched faded from a silk business jacket to one made of leather, adorned in zippers. Crowley popped the collar and snapped his fingers, replacing his jeans with a lighter wash. His snakeskin boots, however, remained unchanged. “Thought I’d test it out. I was getting bored of my old clothes, anyway. Had em since the 50s.” He tossed his head, eyes glinting behind his glasses.

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “I suppose we should get a wiggle on. Find some place for the children to eat.”

Crowley looked at his watch. “‘S early yet, angel. Let ‘em sleep a bit longer.” He strode past Aziraphale as easily as if he were made of liquid, making a bee line for the window. He flipped up the blinds with his fingers, peering through them into the outside world. “Storm’s cleared. For a bit.” He frowned. “He’s bored.”

“What, the other one, you mean?” Aziraphale came to stand beside Crowley, using the strings attached to the blinds to pull them out of the way. “The Glamour who lives here?”

Crowley hummed, tilting his head like a periscoping snake. “Yep,” he popped the “p,” turning away from the window and fussily folding the clothes he’d spent a good portion of the night making. (Aziraphale noticed that Jack’s new jean jacket had several pop culture patches, including the Alien he was fond of, a werewolf, a mummy, and a “Frankenstein” as they were erroneously being called these days.) “Like I said, he has an influence over Derry, just like I do over London.”

“You do?” Aziraphale asked, stunned. “I didn’t feel it.” He didn’t have as much of a sense as Crowley did, it was true, but he did know that Derry felt...different. Stranger. More sinister. Seedy. Like the bad part of town. London didn’t feel like that. It felt friendly, if a bit standoffish to outsiders.

Crowley chuckled. “I prefer free will. Makes things more fun. But I do counteract things, like PSAs against playing in the sewers, and “don’t talk to strangers.” And, of course, I discreetly cover up disappearances. After a while, everyone tends to forget the abuser that went missing, or turned up dead outside of a sewer or on the banks of the river.” He shrugged. “I only interfere when I need to. Takes too much energy, in my opinion.”

Aziraphale thought back to the overwhelming pain he now knew Crowley carried that he had glimpsed last night and thought that Crowley probably expended much more energy than he took in, missed cycles notwithstanding. “Right,” he said. “But this Glamour…”

“It’s here,” Crowley spread his arm out. “It winds through everything, through the fabric of Derry’s reality.” He shivered, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head back, his new hair tumbling down past his shoulders. “That’s why I hate it here. He’s done the equivalent of a wolf pissing all over its territory.”

“Ah, yes, you said there was some sort of innate territorial nature about Glamours,” Aziraphale mused. “Something a bit like “get off my property,” yes?” 

Crowley nodded. “Mother Deadlight planned well for us. We’d run out of prey if we were allowed to cohabitate.” 

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully. “As disturbing as it might be, I need to get an idea of the appetite this one has. You’re certainly no baseline for your species.” 

“Daddy?” Katie sat up in the bed, sniffling and holding her stuffed rabbit close. “I had a nightmare.” 

Crowley made a sympathetic sound and gathered Katie into his arms, holding her close and rocking her gently. “It’s okay now, love. I’m here. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” 

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked. “What was she afraid of?” 

Crowley shook his head, but Katie lifted her tear-streaked face from where it was tucked into her father’s neck. “Scary eyes,” she said. “A monster with glowing lights and big teeth.” 

“Oh, yes, your siblings were talking about something similar last night,” Aziraphale tried to soothe. Older children he could handle, but he was utterly lost when it came to very young children. 

Katie shook her head. “Not daddy,” she said. “Worse.” 

Crowley turned to Aziraphale darkly. “I think she saw the Glamour’s favorite form,” he said. 

“Well?” Aziraphale asked, impatiently. 

“A clown,” Crowley replied. 

~

“All right,” Crowley clasped his hands together, beaming at his children. They’d just finished breakfast at a lovely little cafe, and the little party was ready to go. “You know what to do. I’ll let you loose so you can get your bearings. Remember what I told you. Aziraphale and I will be right behind you.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a handful of bills. “It looks like there’s an arcade and a few little shops. Go ahead and explore! We’ll be nearby. If you can’t find me, you know my number. All right?” 

Wren and Jack nodded. Katie still looked a bit shaken from her nightmare, however, and stepped closer to Crowley. “Why can’t you stay with us?” She asked, perhaps a bit petulantly. 

“Because children are more likely to talk to other children,” Crowley replied, bending down to Katie’s level and brushing some dust off her dress. “Go on. I bet you’ll meet some kids your age.” He smiled. “You can always come back to me if you’re scared. I’ll find you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, making the little girl giggle. 

“Thanks, dad,” Wren said, hugging Crowley before he could stand up. 

“Whoa,” Crowley chuckled, nearly falling backwards. “Easy! I’m not as young as I used to be!” He stood up, still chuckling, and gave Jack a high five. “Take care of them, Jack.”

“Yessir!” Jack replied, saluting playfully. “C’mon, lets go check out the arcade! Race you!” He took off running. 

“Hey! No fair!” When shouted after him, taking Katie’s hand and chasing after him. “Dad said to stick together!”

“Stick fast to my ass!”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

The children’s laughter faded as they darted into the arcade. Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, who had a fond smile on his face. He cleared his throat and Crowley startled. 

“You’re so worried about them, yet you send them off on their own?” The Good Agent crossed his arms over his chest. “Rather counterproductive if you ask me.”

“On the contrary, angel,” Crowley replied, pocketing his hands and striding up to an electronics display window, pretending to admire the new televisions for sale. “My children are hunters, just like I am. They know what to look for in their prey, and when to bring their results to me. I trust them completely.”

“Hunters?” Aziraphale asked. “Well, I suppose that explains how you find your prey.” 

Crowley chuckled. “Not always. But yes, mostly.” His attention was momentarily drawn to one of the televisions broadcasting what looked like a nursery rhymes show for children, with a curly haired brunette hostess and several children on the screen. She seemed to be holding up a book of some kind. 

“And your number?” Aziraphale asked. “Do you have one of those...mobile telephones?” 

Crowley turned to Aziraphale, missing the fact that the picture in the book was showing a clown dressed in white with red hair and red makeup leading a child by the hand into a sewer. “Oh, the bricks, you mean?” He chuckled. “Nah, nothing so bulky. I designed it, so it’s sleek and more functional. It actually fits in my pocket!” His eyes strayed over Aziraphale’s head, watching a loud boy with curly hair and square glasses in a Hawaiian-style shirt dragging a protesting boy with a fanny pack and a taller, awkward boy holding the hand of a boy about Katie’s age into the arcade. “Hmm.”

“What?” Aziraphale turned around, but could see nothing. He frowned at Crowley. “What’s so interesting?”

“I’ve encountered germaphobes before,” the Glamour wet his lips thoughtfully, “but never one as young as that. Could be promising, ‘s all.”

Aziraphale tutted. “Oh, really, Crowley. This is hardly the time to be thinking about food!”

Crowley sighed, swallowing the venom that had started to gather on his tongue. “Yeah, you’re right, sorry. Can’t help myself.” He looked away, shuffling his feet. 

Aziraphale hesitantly reached out to pat his shoulder. “No need to apologize, dear boy. I understand completely. I’m only worried…”

“No, no,” Crowley took a deep breath, steeling himself against the rising tide of hunger building in his gut. “Hunting on the other Glamour’s territory...the clown, if Katie was right…” he shook his head. “It wouldn’t be good. At all.”

Aziraphale spotted a small coffee and donuts shop across the street from the arcade. “My dear fellow, why don’t we have some coffee? We can pick up some treats for the children.” 

Crowley nodded, smiling. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, angel.”

“Not at all, Crowley,” Aziraphale replied, taking his arm to steady him and leading him away from the display window. 

They didn’t notice the children in the television program changing appearances, now looking pale and bloodied. Nor did they notice how the clown in the picture book seemed to have lost the child he’d been holding hands with, and had grown several unnecessary sets of teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, updates will be much faster when I'm not procrastinating writing Pennywise scenes. So I'm going to stick with the current format, with some anecdotes told by the Losers and some told by Crowley, Aziraphale, and the Campsite Kids. Deaths will likely only be mentioned.
> 
> Speaking of...I feel kinda bbad for Eddie Corcoran. He would've been exactly the kind of kid Crowley would have gladly rescued. :(
> 
> We're starting to get a glimpse of how efficient Crowley is at hunting...and how much of a grip Pennywise has on Derry. Spooky!
> 
> Special shoutout to flamethrower for being the biggest fan I could ask for of this fic. You're amazing, my dude.


	11. Wren's Hunt

Ben Hanscom was making his way home from school on his bike. He was carefully peddling it along, as he had a school project about engineering balanced on the handlebars. One of his teachers, Mrs. Jones, had called his mother to tell her that she had noticed that Ben had forgotten his project on the last day of school, and that she’d noticed it while returning to her classroom to fetch a notebook she’d left behind. 

Ben’s mom had chewed him out a bit for forgetting something he’d been so proud of, but, in the end, he had to forgive himself for the oversight. After all, it isn’t every day that a pretty girl with a beautiful smile not only snatches your headphones, but compliments you on your music tastes. To say Ben was instantly smitten with Beverly Marsh would be an understatement.

As he neared the canal bridge, however, Ben slowed, looking out over the water. He’d encountered a very strange, and very scary, event here not that long ago on his way home from school, just like he was now. But Ben was brave or, at least, smart enough to question what he’d seen. He remembered how fiercely the wind had been howling, and how effortlessly the red balloon had floated towards him despite that. What happened next was probably just his imagination. Nobody had died and been embalmed in that canal to make a mummy...right…? Certainly not somebody wearing a clown costume. That would be ridiculous.

Just as Ben was about to mount his bike again, he heard a very familiar voice over his shoulder. “Hey! Fatfuck!”

Ben turned to see Henry Bowers and his gang running towards him. Before he could react, his precious display fell to the ground as he tripped over his bike, his back hitting the wooden guardrail hard. With the wind knocked out of him, Ben was powerless as the bullies surrounded him.

“Well, well,” Henry loomed over Ben, leering, his greasy hair and toothy smile as terrifying as anything in a horror flick. “Look what we have here. A fat bird caught in a snare.” He reached into his pocket, withdrawing a switchblade knife. “Vic, Belch, hold ‘im!”

The two bullies grabbed onto Ben’s arms, forcing them behind his back. Patrick held Ben’s shirt up as Henry came close. “Shoulda never come this way, fatboy,” Henry grinned.

Ben wasn’t prepared for the searing pain of the knife carving into his flesh. It burned like fire, and he wriggled, screaming out, unable to hold back. The bullies only laughed and high fived each other while Henry continued to carve into his stomach. In a fog of pain, Ben saw a blue car approaching. “Help!” He called out desperately. “Help me!”

But the adults in the car barely spared him a glance before moving on, and Ben saw a single red balloon float ominously up from the back seat, sitting in the rear window of the car, perfectly still, as the adults disappeared over the bridge.

Realizing that no one was going to save him, Ben kicked. He’d taken a few karate classes after a brief obsession with “The Karate Kid,” but had never gotten good enough to advance, so he got bored. However, it meant he knew how to kick. Henry was just lucky enough not to get hit in the balls.

“GRAAUUGGHH!” Henry roared, falling back dramatically. Their leader’s distress made the other boys drop Ben in shock. “You motherfucker! You’re dead, fatso!”

Ben put up his fists, eyes nervously shifting from opponent to opponent. He wasn’t prepared to fight, but he’d for sure go down swinging. Just then, however, he saw the flashing lights of a police car.

“Shit! It’s my dad!” Henry cried. “Fuck! Run!” The bullies scattered, leaving Ben forgotten and bleeding, with an “F” and part of an “A” carved into his flesh.

Putting as much pressure as possible on the wound, Ben hobbled to his bike and rode off into town as the police car drove swiftly on by.

~

Crowley stood at the window, staring out into the sunshine. He was restless and exhausted all at once, his muscles aching from a lack of sustenance. The weakness he’d broadcasted to Aziraphale wasn’t something he felt constantly; he only felt like that when he let his hunger overtake him, when the Deadlights at his core tingled pleasantly in his throat, when his eyes shone gold, slit pupils drowned out by the glow. He chose to ignore that feeling most of the time, because it tended to make unpleasant things happen, like bad dreams. (He suspected that he’d accidentally influenced Katie’s dreams, which made him feel guilty.) That influence was meant to make hunting easier, but Crowley had his own methods and preferred not to use that one.

So, no, he didn’t feel the starvation buried deep under sheer willpower, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the effects of going hungry for so long.

Katie was a bit under the weather, so they hadn’t gone into town today. Or, at least, he and the children hadn’t. Aziraphale had gone to the library and returned with a stuffy old tome that made both Crowley and Katie sneeze, chicken noodle soup, and takeaway food and snacks galore. With Katie asleep for now, Wren occupied playing Solitaire, Aziraphale reading, and Jack with his walkman, Crowley could keep watch in peace.

He both needed desperately to sit down and to do something, anything, and it was pissing him off. The Glamour growled to himself, tapping his fingers against his bicep in a frustrated rhythm.

He was startled by a slice of fear and an overwhelming feeling of shame, but not startled by Wren gently tugging on his jacket. “Um. Hey, dad?” 

Crowley turned, pocketing his hands to open up his stance, make him look less threatening. “What’s up, Wren?”

Wren blushed, looking at her feet, shuffling them around. Crowley sniffed. 

Blood.

Oh.

Wren had started menstruating last month, which Crowley had been prepared for in his lair. Period blood smelled different than injury blood, both scents which Crowley’s predatory brain vaguely associated with food. But since Crowley was a serpentine Glamour, he tended to finish off his prey cleanly, so the scent wasn’t as intoxicating as plain fear.

“I can make some for you,” Crowley said, lowering his voice.

Wren shook her head. “I wanna go into town. There was a drug store.”

Crowley tilted his head. “Why? We can stay here, you can continue your game…”

“I know, dad,” Wren set her brow in determination, meeting his eyes with a fiery gaze that would terrify men when she got older and would make any beast quiver. As it happened, Crowley was just proud. “But I thought, well...get to know the locals, y’know?”

Crowley grinned, resting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. “That’s my girl. Selfless to a fault.” He hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Aziraphale, but he had also never left his children alone with someone else before. And putting up his usual defences would actually do the opposite in unfamiliar territory. He didn’t want to bring the Glamour’s attention to his children just yet. 

Well, at all, if he could help it. But he knew eventually, he’d no longer be able to hide them from the other creature.

“Aziraphale,” he announced loudly, making the other creature look up from his book. “Wren wants to go into town to get something. Will you look out for Jack and Katie while we’re gone?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, of course, dear boy. I’ll keep my ears and senses open!”

“Thanks,” Crowley replied, taking a room key with him and slipping it into his pocket. If there was one thing Maturin’s agents were good at, it was listening. The children would be safe until he got back.

With that, Crowley and Wren slipped out of the hotel and into the streets of Derry.

~

“Hey,” Richie said, glancing away from the Street Fighter game Bill was playing. “Isn’t that kid from your homeroom, Eddie?”

Eddie, looking up from fiddling with the pills in his fanny pack, glanced up briefly. “Yeah, that’s Ben Hanscom.” He peered at him. “Holy shit! I think he’s hurt!” Eddie tugged on Bill’s arm. “C’mon! We gotta help ‘im!”

“Aww, c’mon, Eddie…” Bill groaned as he was tugged away, sure that his friend was just overreacting. “I was about to reach my high score!” That, and this was the one day this week when his mom had taken Georgie to day camp, and he didn’t have to watch him. Not that he didn’t like his little brother, but, as it always is with siblings, sometimes, they just get on your nerves. 

“Shit, Eddie, I think you’re right,” Richie murmured as they got closer. “Dude’s paler than my bedsheets! Hey!” He yelled at Ben. “You aw’ight, man?”

Ben, obviously not alright, stumbled into a nearby alley with a mural painted on it and sat heavily down on a crate.

“Shit!” Bill cursed, grimacing.

“”S just a couple of cuts,” Eddie said as Ben lifted up his shirt accidentally by moving his arm. “I can fix that.”

“With what?” Richie snorted. “Magic?”

“No, dumbass,” Eddie glared at Richie. “Lookit where we are. Pharmacy’s right ‘round the corner.” He straightened up, brushing imaginary dust off his knees and adjusting his fanny pack. “C’mon, let’s go!”

~

Crowley handed Wren some money. “I’ll be right here,” he promised. “You can get some candy too, if you like. Just for you. No need to share with Jack.”

Wren smiled at her palm, placing it carefully in the pocket of her plaid miniskirt. “Got it. Thanks, dad.” She disappeared into the store and Crowley leaned against a brick pillar separating the pharmacy from the curb. He could smell blood-real blood-but decided it was probably from the butcher’s across the way. Besides, he was on the lookout for the other Glamour. He didn’t want it to catch Wren unawares. 

A group of boys Crowley recognized only by the scent of hypochondria burst their way into the pharmacy. The Glamour sighed, ignoring the interesting implications that came along with such an intense fear, and pretended very badly that he didn’t need a cigarette.

Meanwhile, Wren made a beeline for the “feminine products” aisle. She had a preferred kind of hygiene pad that she liked to use, and she hoped Derry’s pharmacy would carry it. As she got there, though, she noticed another girl with creamy white skin and striking red hair who looked up like a deer in headlights when she entered the aisle, only relaxing when she noticed it was another girl.  
Wren smiled. There was something about the way the girl carried herself that reminded Wren of when she’d gotten her first period. “It’s not that bad, you know.”

The girl looked up. “What?”

“Periods,” Wren shrugged, keeping her eyes on the shelves. “Not that bad. The worst is cramps.” She chuckled, finally looking over. “I feel like I wanna die sometimes when I have those.”

“O-oh,” the girl said, looking away. “‘S my first one...I dunno what to do…” she giggled nervously.

“I’m Wren,” Wren introduced herself, sticking out her hand to shake. “My family’s staying in town for a while.”

“I’m Beverly. Bev.” Bev took Wren’s hand, shaking it firmly. “I live here, back in the little suburb pack two blocks down.”

“Nice to meet ya,” Wren smiled kindly. Bev returned it. Yeah, there was something about her, Wren decided. Bev seemed like the kind of person who was usually headstrong and confident, but something about this in particular, this so-called “mark of womanhood” was unsettling her. And it seemed like more than first-period jitters.

She’d have to introduce Bev to her dad.

Wren grabbed her brand, seeing Bev had made a choice as well, and was about to offer to take Bev to meet her dad when all of a sudden, a clatter from the next aisle over alerted them.

“Shit, man!” said a nasally voice.

“C-can we afford all this?” A timid voice asked. “How much you g-got?”

“Twelve dollars,” mourned another voice. “This bandage alone costs that much. What’ll we do?”

“I know those guys,” Bev said. “C’mon.”

Wren. curious, followed, coming face to face with…

“Hey,” Bev said casually, holding the pads behind her back. “Eddie, Bill, Richie. Meet Wren. Her family’s staying here for the summer.”

Wren smiled, waving. “Hey.”

“What’s all that for?” Bev asked the boys, grinning. Yeah, Wren thought, usually confident indeed. “Somebody get murdered or somethin?”

“Our f-friend’s hurt,” the one called Bill, a dark-haired, tall, lanky, not entirely unattractive boy, explained.

“We’re gonna help him,” the boy called Eddie set his foot down, his whole face set in a serious grimace.

“You’re forgetting, dipshit,” the boy called Richie, a weasley boy with curly hair and thick glasses, elbowed Eddie in the side, making him moan out an irritated “ow”, “we don’t have money.”

“I’ll distract the pharmacist,” Bev said immediately. “We will. Wren and I.” She smiled. “Sneak out. Go help your friend.”

“But that would be-” Eddie began before Richie slapped his hand over his mouth.

“T-thanks,” Bill said, clearly smitten.

Wren followed Bev to the counter, watching the way she interacted with the older pharmacist. Yeah, something was a bit...off. No kid should know how to seduce an older man like that...should they? She didn’t, at least. Maybe she was just ignorant. But it was a bell that told her that her dad would like Bev very much.

~

Crowley was almost barreled over by the boys pushing their way out of the shop. A fear of getting in trouble wafted out from all of them. Interesting. He followed the boys with his eyes behind another corner and, using his infrared-like vision, he squinted to see through the walls. There were four boys, one injured. Ah! So the blood had been human after all. He watched their forms bickering, eventually letting one boy help out the injured one.

Crowley had been about to look away, satisfied that no children were in immediate danger (the wound was only deep enough to scar, not maim), when a tantalizing fear overwhelmed him, making him figuratively stop in his tracks.

The fear permeated the child’s entire being, radiated out from her like a siren’s song, a scent so thick that it coated his tongue, making his mouth water. Oh, that was so dangerous, hunting on another Glamour’s territory, but his logical mind was fading...he barely had the presence of mind to keep himself from growing far too many teeth. 

And it was a fear he could work with, too. Now that. That was enough to make his stomach growl and his knees buckle. 

Crowley swallowed, panting as if he’d run a marathon. The scent was cloying, sticking to every fibre of his being. He was starving, he was ready to engage, to hunt, to…

To notice his daughter walking with her.

Crowley grinned proudly. “Atta girl.” So Wren had sensed it, too, had latched herself to the girl already. Perfect. He watched Wren until they locked eyes. Wren glanced over to the girl and Crowley nodded. Yes. She was perfect.

Wren felt a giddy glee fill her up inside so rapidly that she barely stifled a giggle. Bev was exactly what her father needed. She knew it. She had that feeling…

“Wren? Hey! Earth to Wren!”

Wren startled, realizing Bev was waving her hand in front of her face. “Sorry, I…”

“We’re gonna go down to the barrens, to the ol’ quarry,” Bill said. “Y’can go along, if ya want.”

“Sorry, but I see my dad,” Wren apologized. “Maybe next time?”

“Sure!” Bev said before the boys could protest at all. “Tomorrow? Arcade?”

Wren nodded. “Sure! I’ll see ya there!” She darted off, package in hand, returning to her father’s side.

“Very good, Wren,” Crowley said warmly as they walked off. “You’re quite the skilled hunter. I’m proud of you.”

Wren beamed with pride. “Thanks, dad!” She fell into step beside Crowley, wrapping her arm around his waist. “You’re gonna be okay, though. Right?”

“Hm?” Crowley asked, wincing. He’d just felt the other Glamour nearby, and had been distracted trying to locate it. But it was gone before he could get a hold on it; probably just a decoy, then. 

“With Bev.” Wren explained. “Only you looked hungry, and…”

Crowley wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I won’t hurt Bev. Promise.”

“Even if…” Wren hesitated. “...Jack’s been sayin you’re gonna go Alien.”

Crowley chuckled. “I won’t. Not on her, not on any kid, not ever. I swear on my very long life.”

Wren nodded, grinning. “I knew he was wrong.”

“Who?” Crowley asked, amused. 

“Aziraphale.” Wren replied, swinging her bag absently. “I knew he had to be wrong about you.”

Crowley sighed. “He was only doing his job, y’know. Looking out for you and Jack and Katie.”

Wren frowned, looking up at Crowley. “But that’s your job, dad.”

Crowley leaned down to kiss her forehead. “It’s both of our jobs now, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I haven't included Stan, and uhhh...yeah, I'm not going to. My goal with this verse is to save the vital members of the Loser's Club, and the only way I could think of to save Stan was to not have him become a Loser. At least, not yet. We'll see what happens afterwards.
> 
> (Also I can't write multiple characters for shit, so one less person to write is Good for Me.) 
> 
> That reference to Crowley sensing Pennywise is a fun little easter egg from the film. If you look at the scene where they're patching up Ben, the mural at one point includes Pennywise, showing that IT is watching... SPOOKY.
> 
> Speaking of Pennywise, I helped blow up some balloons for an actor portraying Pennywise for our haunted house last night. Seemed appropriate that he scared the heck out of me using an IT voice, too. -_-''
> 
> Edit: I think I’ll put Stan in after all, because he’s important. (Duh.) But I’m giving the blood pact idea to Bill, like it was in the original miniseries. As for what happens when he grows up...we’ll see.


	12. Come Together

“I don’t understand the point of this, Crowley.” Aziraphale shifted about impatiently, pouting. “This isn’t getting us any closer to the Glamour.” 

“Well, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” Crowley replied cheekily, slouching further than appeared comfortable. The bright summer sunshine was making him lazy, and he fought back a yawn. “Who says we’ve got to be all business?”

He and Aziraphale were sitting on a bench across from the arcade, where Wren, Jack, and Katie were planning to meet up with the children Wren had met yesterday. Crowley wanted to be close enough that he could quickly intervene if something went awry, but far enough away so that the children didn’t feel crowded by adults. 

Aziraphale wriggled uncomfortably. “I should think the very nature of our mission would necessitate hard work!” 

“And so it is,” Crowley gestured towards the arcade. “What better way to lure a Glamour that eats children than by putting children in its path?”

Aziraphale turned towards Crowley, raising an eyebrow. “Really? So you admit to using your children as bait.” 

“It hardly counts as bait if I’m close enough to interfere,” Crowley dismissed. “Now, stop fussing. You’ll give me indigestion.” 

“But you haven’t eaten anything!” Aziraphale retorted, pouting at being silenced. 

“That’s how much you’re giving me indigestion,” Crowley replied. Though, he looked over at Aziraphale, seeing how put out he looked. “Was that a bit too far?”

Aziraphale sighed and didn’t reply, but that was enough for Crowley to realize he’d fucked up. 

“I’m sorry, angel. Really.” The Glamour placed a hand on Aziraphale’s arm. “I didn’t mean to strike a nerve. I only meant…”

“No, of course,” Aziraphale replied, wringing his hands together. “That fear you mentioned? That I won’t be able to handle this Glamour alone? I…” He glanced up at Crowley, looking past the dark glasses and straight into his gleaming eyes. “The other agents of Maturin...they can’t understand why the Turtle would send one so...soft…” Aziraphale frowned. 

“But softness has a lot of benefits, Aziraphale,” Crowley reassured him, resting his hand briefly on top of the other being’s. “And you aren’t alone.” 

~

“So, who’re we lookin for?” Jack asked, his eyes trained on the claw machine in front of him, desperately trying to win a pink ballerina bear for Katie, who was watching the bright LED lights chase each other around the outside of the crane game with wide eyes. She was rocking back and forth on the stool she was sitting on, which belonged to an adjacent coin pusher, kicking her feet in order to make the stool rotate.

Wren was standing nearby, keeping watch for the other Glamour (Katie had told her she thought it was a clown, but that seemed sort of ridiculous), but also looking for her new friend. “Bev,” she replied, biting her lip as she strained to see over a few tall skee ball machines tucked into the far corner. “Think you’ll know when you see her, Jack. Seems like she has a lot in common with you.”

Jack deflated as the claw machine made a comically sad noise when he lost yet again, and turned to narrow his eyes at Wren. Nobody, except maybe their dad, knew the full details of what Jack had gone through in the home he’d run away from, but from what Wren knew, and what she suspected about Beverly, the Derry girl and her foster brother had a lot in common.

“Hey! Wren!” Called a bright, airy voice.

Wren turned around and saw Bev waving at her. The boys had taken possession of a Street Fighter machine, while Eddie, an unfamiliar boy with tight curls and part of a scouting uniform, and a boy about Katie’s age were crowded around a Space Invaders machine. Wren waved back and beckoned to her siblings.

“Aww, c’mon, Wrennie,” Katie whined. “I want my ballerina bear!”

“I’ll get it for you on the way out,” Jack promised, wondering if their dad could use a bit of his reality-bending powers on the claw machine to help him out. “If you don’t forget like you always do.”

“Will not!”

“Will too!”

Wren rolled her eyes, strolling straight up to Beverly, who surprised her with a hug. Wren hugged back. Richie made a gagging noise. “Eugh. Get a room!”

“Hey, it’s good to see you,” Wren said shyly.

“Yeah, you too!” Bev smiled, pulling back. “I was worried you might never show up, and I’d be stuck with these goonies all day.” She’d changed her hair drastically since yesterday, Wren noticed. It wasn’t in a long ginger ponytail anymore, but was now a pixie cut, stylishly short and barely brushing past her ears. It didn’t look like the neatest job; she’d probably cut it herself. 

Interesting, Wren thought. “Nah, I said I’d come. My dad had to come to town today, so he brought all of us down.” She gestured to her siblings. (Even though Katie was her blood niece, it was easier to let people think of Katie as her sister for the sake of keeping at least some of her story private.) “This is Katie and this is Jack.”

Katie sniffled, still not fully over her cold, and waved to Bev. Jack stuck out his hand to shake. “Nice to meet ya. You must be Bev.”

“Yep! Wren, you know everybody here, I think. Oh! You never met Ben. And that’s Bill and Richie and Eddie and Bill’s brother, Georgie. Oh! And Stan’s the one killing it at Space Invaders. He’s got the high score here.” 

“Hi,” The Campsite Kids choroused. Georgie turned and locked eyes with Katie, his own lighting up, seeing someone his own age. 

“Hey!” Georgie bounded up to her. “‘M Georgie!” He stuck out a hand to shake. In one hand, he had a sturdy newspaper boat attached to a piece of red thread. “What’s your name?”

“Katie,” Katie shook his hand, smiling. “Nice to meet ya.”

“I like your bunny,” Georgie pointed to the well-loved stuffed rabbit Katie held in a headlock at her elbow.

“‘S a rabbit,” Katie protested. 

“There’s no difference!”

“Is too! Rabbits have longer ears, see?” Katie showed one of her rabbit’s long, satin ears.

“Oh, cool! I didn’t know that!” Georgie touched the toy’s ear with reverence, as if he was touching something holy. “D’ya like my boat! Billy made it for me! See! It’s got S.S. Georgie on it!”

Bill turned away from the game he was playing with Richie to look at Wren. “I tied it t-to string s-so Georgie wouldn’t l-lose it. I didn’t want-t him wandering off.”

Wren nodded. As an older sister, she related. Even as an aunt, she related. Doubly so, in fact.

“Can I try?” Jack asked. “I’ll fight winner.”

“Only if you play Chun-Li,” Richie teased.

“You’re on!” Jack replied, taking over and inserting more quarters as Bill admitted defeat (and lack of continue coins).

“So,” Stan said over his shoulder. “Why’s your dad with you guys?”

Wren shrugged, watching Katie and Georgie sat playing on the dirty carpet. “He’s overprotective, I guess.”

“‘S long as he’s not like Eddie’s mom,” Richie snorted. 

“Knock it off, Trash Mouth!” Eddie growled.

~

“What were you saying about the Glamour’s appetite, angel?” Crowley asked, peering at a town bulletin board posted outside the coffee shop Aziraphale had just exited, judging by the tinkling of the overhead bell. The bulletin board held many things you’d expect to see; an ad for the Derry Fourth of July parade, little tear-and-takes for babysitting jobs, newspaper delivery, and lawn service, a few business cards from the pharmacy, the Hanlon farm, and a car repair shop. What was different about Derry’s that differed even from a similar board found in London was that it was covered with MISSING posters in various states of decay, all bearing the faces of children. 

Aziraphale wordlessly handed Crowley a tall, black coffee and bit into a crumbly scone. “Voracious. And seemingly not just for its own end. I’ve been able to link several tragedies over the past couple of years to its activity, seeing as very little could cause that level of destruction. The Easter celebration that ended with over 80 children dead comes to mind.” He frowned, following Crowley’s eye line. “You think it’s started already.” 

“Mm,” Crowley sipped his coffee, mouth set in a grim line. “Some of these are old, obviously. No one’s bothered to take them down, or maybe it’s a memorial of some sort. I’m not sure.” He turned to look at Aziraphale. “One of the things I can do is make people forget, make them turn a blind eye to disappearances.” 

Aziraphale nodded grimly. “And you think that’s what it’s doing, too. Of course, I see the logic.” His fingers swept over the posters. “Huh.”

Crowley filled up his coffee again, waiting for Aziraphale to elaborate. When he didn’t, he cleared his throat. “Care to share with the class?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Aziraphale flipped to another poster, his eyes alighting on the names Cheryl Lamonica and Matthew Clements. “It’s just. Usually, with these sorts of things, you’d expect them to be tainted with worry and pain, or a sense of hope. Possibly fear, too, right? But.” He pulled his hand away, brushing it on his jacket as if trying to get rid of dust. “Nothing. Not a drop. Not even hopelessness and despair on the very old ones.” 

Crowley’s stomach suddenly felt far too full of liquid, and he tossed the half-full cup into the trash can nearby. “Urgh. That’s unsettling. I hate that his magic is being applied to this.” 

“I do have a few ideas on how to proceed,” Aziraphale mused. Crowley turned to listen. “Your use of the word “bait” got me thinking…” he tapped his chin like a villain in a cartoon, which forced Crowley to stifle a laugh. Really, this was serious! “Did you ever have prey that got away?” 

Before Crowley could respond, a commotion erupted from one of the alleyways and attracted their attention, unfortunately, away from the arcade, with all of the children still inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen I just had that Beatles song in my head. It's the only song of theirs I like so fight me idc
> 
> I'm still sick, which threw off my posting schedule again, RIP, but the muse finally chomped on me, so hopefully, we get this fic DONE before Halloween, which is my goal. I was thinking maybe I'd be able to get its sequel out before this Halloween too...but that might have to wait until Summerween...unless y'all would really wanna see it, even possibly into December, depending on its length.
> 
> A quick note: the next chapter contains racism. THIS DOES NOT REFLECT MY OWN VIEWS!! I think poc are lovely. (If y'all are familiar with IT, you miiiight know the context of this, but I wanna be super DUPER clear about that, okay? Okay.)


	13. Close Encounter

It was absolutely not Mike Hanlon’s day. 

He’d thought the worst day of his life had been the time he’d rode his bike to the butcher’s in late autumn chill when he’d been inexplicably attacked by Rodan of all things! It had seemed so real to him at the time, but he decided that it was some sort of sugar hallucination brought on by eating too much Halloween candy too late at night. 

However, real horrors were always worse than nightmares. 

The shiny new convertible had nearly ran him over. Reflexes alone saved him from getting squashed like a bug. Which, judging from the tone of the taunting bullies, led by the infamous Henry Bowers, that had been their intention. 

“Stay outta my town, ya dirty ape!” Henry shouted as the other bullies jeered around him. The car shifted gears and sped off, splashing Mike with a puddle. 

The boy sighed, gathering his dropped packages and hoping the meat was still okay. His grandfather would skin him as easily as one of the lambs if he didn’t bring back every last chunk. 

That’s when the butcher’s freezer door rattled in front of him. Mike jumped, nearly dropping his packages again. The door opened just a crack, and first one then two than five charred hands slid out from around the edge of the door, flailing, dropping charred skin at the foot of the door. Mike felt his throat closing with panic as he remembered how his parents had died, seeing his father’s charred hand trying desperately to unlock the apartment door…

~

“Crowley!” Aziraphale dashed after the Glamour, who seemed able to slide easily between lampposts and busy families. Of course a Deadlight Creature, especially a serpentine one (Aziraphale suspected, judging from the serpent tattoo next to his ear), would be able to move so fluidly. He was too short to keep up, and quite a bit clumsy when he tried to dodge and weave like his adversary. “We’ve left the children behind!”

“We’re not far,” Crowley said absently, pulling up short like a scent hound on the trail, body taut as he sniffed the air, flickering his forked tongue from between his lips. Fear. He turned back, waiting for Aziraphale to catch up and catch his breath. (It’s not that Crowley wouldn’t have been breathing heavily, you see; he was just as unused to physical exercise as Aziraphale. He’d been using his powers to pour a bit of his serpentine elegance into his step, which rather dampened his exertion.) “There,” he inclined his head, eyes faintly glowing. “C’mon.” He blinked, eyes returning to normal, and together, the two less-than-human beings crept forward, hugging the edge of the brick wall.

Aziraphale frowned as he overheard the insults thrown at the poor boy. “Those monsters.” He clenched his fists. “All because he has a different skin tone! Outrageous!”

Crowley hummed, pressing his hand against Aziraphale’s chest gently to keep his friend in place. While he absolutely would have stepped in had the boy been in danger (and surely would if that bully tried anything funny with his kids), but he wasn’t. At least...not yet. Crowley could sense a larger, much more menacing presence nearby.

And it wasn’t anything to do with the bullies.  
~

The door before Mike swung open despite it previously being chained shut. He could just barely see into the dark freezer. The interior was blue-tinted, and Mike could feel the cold air wafting out from it. 

He could see large animals in the back hanging from meat hooks. Nothing inherently scary about that, not really. They could be kinda creepy when they were half cut up, or if you bumped into one of them by accident. But Mike could see something you normally didn’t see in a meat freezer.

One of the corpses...was moving. His vision was distorted by the tempered glass in front of the freezer, but it looked...human-shaped, writhing as if caught on one of the hooks. 

And when it turned to look at Mike, its eyes were cold and glowing.

~

“The other Glamour,” Aziraphale pushed past Crowley, knocking the wind out of him as he pressed him to the wall. “I have to stop him.” The Agent stood very still, straightening his posture and placing his hands together, almost as if he was praying. (To what, Crowley couldn’t imagine; what did powerful beings like themselves pray to? Gan, perhaps?) The hair on his head seemed to stand on end, emitting a glow of warm, welcoming light, similar to his Deadlights but...kind, encouraging, mediating.

Crowley stood back, glad he was wearing sunglasses, as with Aziraphale’s help, Mike was able to conquer his fear and push the door firmly closed. Once this was done, Aziraphale returned to his normal state, looking a bit pale. Crowley wrapped an arm around him, helping him back to stand against the wall. “Angel, are you all right? Did it hurt you?” He could feel that the Glamour, interrupted but not dissuaded, had fled. 

“No, no,” Aziraphale reassured him with a kind smile. “I’m fine. The creature is very powerful, that’s all. I had to expend more energy than usual.” He was endeared to the way Crowley was tense with worry over him. He was a strange creature for sure, hardly evil at all. (Except, Aziraphale amended, for the way he had to survive. Murder wasn’t...exactly great, no matter who you were murdering.)

Crowley sighed in relief. He could sense, however, that the boy was still shaken up. Well, there was safety in numbers.

The Glamour touched his heart, tilting his head back and letting his eyes glow. A whisper of an ancient language, older than the oldest kingdoms of Earth, older than time itself, passed his lips. The command was clear, the pull so strong.

[C O M E T O M E]

From where she was sitting on the floor of the arcade, Katie suddenly looked up, as if she had heard a sudden noise. She could feel the pull strongly, could see in her mind the location her father wanted her to go.

[C O M E T O M E]

Katie stood up, brushing herself off. She wasn’t quite in a trance, but it felt odd to be so far away from Crowley with the pull intact. It was like being on a leash that was stretched too far.

[C O M E T O M E]

And so she did. Katie began to walk out of the arcade and down to the alley.

“Katie!” Georgie cried. “Katie, where’re ya goin?”

“Daddy wants me,” Katie murmured.

Wren frowned, tugging Jack away from the game. “C’mon.”

“Hey!” Jack protested, only shedding his frustration when he saw Katie walking away. “Oh, shit. I’m comin!” With that, the two raced off.

“C’mon!” Georgie said, impatiently tugging on Bill’s shirt. “We gotta go find Katie!”

Bill nodded. “Yeah, there might be trouble.” He thought briefly to Betty Ripsom’s distraught mother, the MISSING posters that seemed endless. “C’mon.”

Bev and Ben unhesitatingly rushed after, Stan and Eddie on their trail.

“Hey!” Richie complained, grabbing his bag of quarters and running out after them. “That means I win by forfeit!”

~

[C O M E T O M E]

Crowley sent out one last call before returning to normal, panting heavily with exertion. He hated using his influence in that way for a couple reasons. He never liked messing with free will, but ever since he’d noticed that Katie seemed more bonded to him the more he used his powers on her, he realized that he could...well.

See, that summoning was a messy business all around, to be sure, but it couldn’t quite be classified as “mind control.” Katie wasn’t mind-controlled. She had a strong compulsion to come to him wherever he was, sure, and it would feel a bit strained for both of them if she refused his summons. But she didn’t have to come, and Crowley kept that intact, even when he felt that the children were all really useful right now.

Still, he felt relief when she came, followed by Wren, Jack, and the other children. The one dripping in fear distracted him yet again, but he swallowed thickly, putting away his many rows of teeth before the unfamiliar kids saw. (His own weren’t afraid of his teeth; they’d seen them before, and anyway, they knew Crowley would never use his teeth on them.)

It didn’t stop his stomach from growling, though, a soft, persistent gargle making dizzying circles in his gut with as much force as a spinning top. He could only hope it wasn’t as audible as his weakened body felt it ought to be.

“Daddy!” Katie ran up and hugged him, and the power severed completely, the bonded returning to the bond, like a magnet attracting a paperclip. 

“That’s your dad?” the boy who was afraid of clowns (interesting and unfortunate) looked like his jaw was about to drop. “He looks like he stepped out of a metal magazine!”

Before any of the other children could say anything, Crowley rolled his eyes, deflecting the children’s attention.

“Oh my G-God!” Bill ran up to Mike, helping him up off the ground. “Hey ar-re you ok-kay?”

The Derry children chattered amongst themselves for a moment. The Campsite Kids looked in confusion at their father.

“What was that?” Wren asked.

“Wait, can you control all of us?” Jack grinned. “Cool!”

“No, it’s not cool,” Crowley replied firmly, “and it isn’t total control.”

Katie nodded. “Feels like I just wanna go home.”

“You never told us…” Wren began, interrupted by Beverly.

“Hey, Wren, Katie, Jack! We’re gonna go downtown! Mike says there’s a fair, and we’re gonna help him make deliveries! Wanna come?”

“Hell yeah!” Jack responded, bounding into the alley. “Gimme my share! Whassat? Meat? Sick! Kill it yourself?”

Katie clambered down from Crowley’s embrace, running over to join Jack, holding Georgie’s hand in hers.

Wren looked back at Crowley, and it hurt him to see the distrust there. “Dad…”

“The other Glamour was here,” Crowley explained over the ruckus of Clown Fear and Hypochondriac bickering over how clean meat was to touch. “It was going to eat that boy. I was trying not to draw attention to myself.”

Wren sighed, glancing after Jack and Katie. “But that’s all?” She asked. “You’d never use it to hurt her, right? Only to protect her?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Crowley promised.

Wren looked Crowley up and down, then nodded before running off to join the other kids.

Crowley felt guilty and empty, though not necessarily from hunger. He jumped when a hand brushed against his shoulder.

“Come, dear boy,” it was Aziraphale, smiling kindly. “Let’s go back to the hotel. You look like you could use a few minutes’ kip.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the note of Crowley having more power than he realizes...yep, here ya go.
> 
> Listen, I know canon is all messed up at this point...bear with me, okay?
> 
> Also yikes, I need a crash course in writing older kids...RIP.


	14. Floating

Aziraphale thought that Crowley was asleep. 

As soon as they’d returned to the room, he’d helped Crowley to the bed, taking his jacket off and setting it aside, then pulling the covers over his form. The Glamour has said nothing, just let himself be bossed about, finally curling up around the covers into as small of a ball as a being his height could manage. Aziraphale decided it was for the best; Crowley looked exhausted, and he wasn’t exactly well rested either. 

Aziraphale flocked on the TV for company. There weren’t many stations here in Derry, or, at least, not many picked up by the hotel. The most interesting one was the Derry Public Broadcast Station, which seemed to be showing some kind of educational cartoon. With the volume on low, it was just a pleasant hum in the background. 

He’d gone to double check the locks on the door, but when he returned, he was startled by a soft, morose voice. 

“I never meant to hurt her.” 

Aziraphale, who had mostly let the scene play out as it would, sat down in his chair, pulling up the Derry history book and pushing a pair of old spectacles that he didn’t need up onto the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t hurt her.”

“Not Katie.” The form in the bed shifted, and Crowley was facing him, sunglasses held between two fingers, his amber eyes glittering in the low light. “Wren. I made her hate me, distrust me.” 

“You did something she didn’t expect to her sister. It’s only natural she’s react like that.” Crowley mumbled something unintelligible. “What was that, dear?”

“Niece,” Crowley looked away, fiddling with a stray thread on the bedsheet. “They’re blood related, as you’ve probably guessed. But Wren’s sister who passed away...she was Katie’s mom.”

“Well then of course her reaction makes sense!” Aziraphale replied enthusiastically, setting aside his book. “She is a kind and compassionate young lady, so of course she’d be concerned with the wellbeing of someone she felt responsible for!” He smiled brightly like the sun, ut despite it actually sparkling, Crowley couldn’t look away. 

“But...I betrayed her trust…”

“You did no such thing. She was worrying about her sis--niece, protecting her.” Aziraphale smirked. “Can’t imagine where she got that from.”

Crowley flushed pink, wriggling uncomfortably. “Well…’s not as if I raised her from birth…”

“Still. I see the influence of your teachings in them.” Aziraphale replied.

Crowley was about to respond further when the program on the television flickered, changing abruptly, the volume increasing. Both beings sat up straight, Aziraphale physically migrating over to sit on the bed as a new image appeared.

“That’s the children’s show,” Crowley pointed shakily. “It was playing on the TV in the electronics store…”

Indeed, the brunette hostess was back, a gaggle of children gathered around her. They looked about ready to perform some kind of grade school concert, with the way the children were lined up in rows by height. Their appearances were grotesque; some were missing eyes or limbs or patches of skin.

“Good Turtle,” Aziraphale murmured. “It feels like she’s looking right at us.”

The hostess cleared her throat, smiling at the screen before her in a nervous manner. “This is a message,” she began, “to any lesser beings who have invaded my territory.”

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale fretted. “It seems I must have--”

“Shh,” Crowley said, not unkindly.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave Derry alone.” Behind the hostess, the children parted, as if letting someone else through the crowd. They all began to smile wider, too, as the camera zoomed slowly in to focus on the hostess. “I have seen the new blood, and it looks delicious. Especially the little girl.”

Crowley hissed, eyes glowing slightly with rage, fists clenching in the blanket. “Stay away from her!” He growled, as if the television could hear him.

The hostess smiled, a bit less nervously, and stepped out of frame. A clown stood behind her, surrounded by the children. He was smiling, too, his cold blue eyes like desolate ice floes. The clown’s voice spoke now, something distinctly carnie to its tone. “Leave Derry now, or I will go after the ones you hold dear. And I will never let them go!” The clown began to laugh, and all the children laughed, too. It was a horrible, echoing chorus that deafened both celestial beings until the TV suddenly and unexpectedly shut off.

“He knows we’re here.” Crowley, stunned, couldn’t tear his eyes from the blank television screen.

“I’m sorry, dear boy,” Aziraphale egan. “It’s all my fault that…”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Crowley grinned, turning towards Aziraphale with an inhuman glint in his eye. “We can fight back,” he said gleefully.

~

The children were all sat on and around a bench in Derry’s town square, enjoying the little summer celebration spread out on the lawn. Georgie and Katie were making grass whistles, occasionally sticking their hands in a bag of kettle corn. Bev and Ben had ice cream, and there was candy and fudge to spare. 

The Derry children had gone around telling the stories of their strange encounters with the being. Bill hadn’t yet had one, but he was ready to believe the other children. Richie didn’t share a story, either. But even so, they felt bonded, sharing the stories of their mutual fears of the creature.

“So many kids have gone missing here over the years,” Mike said, looking around the company with a severe expression. “Their bodies end up in the river or the dam. Sometimes, they don’t find bodies at all.” He shifted around uneasily. “My grandpa says that something about Derry makes parents lose hope. It’s an accepted thing here.”

“But the creature,” Eddie said around a gummy bear, “my leper, Bev’s drainpipe, your bird,” he turned to Mike. “That’s what’s responsible?”

Mike nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Why else would we have all seen it?”

“Mass hallucinations aren’t likely,” Ben pointed out. “I was so sure I’d dreamed what I saw until I heard you guys’ stories.”

“I couldn’t explain mine either,” Stan added. 

“W-what ab-bout you?” Bill asked, looking at Wren and Jack, who were quietly sharing a bag of hard candy between them. “H-have you s-seen anything un-unusual around?”

“I still think your dad is frikin awesome!” Richie reached over to give Jack a high five, which the other boy returned enthusiastically. “He looks like a rock star!”

“I know!” Jack grinned. “Our dad’s awesome!”

“Weird he was wearing sunglasses, though,” Stan mused. “I mean, my dad wears ‘em sometimes, but it wasn’t that bright out!”

“He c-could have s-sensitive eyes,” Bill pointed out.

“That’s a thing, y’know!” Eddie piped up, gesturing wildly. “He could have cataracts, or his eyes could burn in the sun!”

“Like a vampire?” Richie snarked. “A glam rock vampire?”

“I’d say he’s more punk,” Bev mused thoughtfully.

Ben nodded. “I agree.”

“We haven’t seen anything odd,” Wren answered the original question primly, fixing the poofy hem of her dress. “We’re kinda used to odd...you might’ve noticed we’re not exactly your typical family.”

“I had a bad home life,” Jack explained, suddenly losing a touch of his bombastic nature. “My old dad drank a lot, and he got mad when he drank. I ran away one night and never looked back. Dad took me in, gave me a place to stay.”

Wren smiled at Katie. “I was much the same. Katie and I ran away from home after my older sister, Song, passed away.” She sighed. “I know it’s a weird name...my mom used to be a hippie. Anyway.” She shrugged. “Our dad’s...not like us.”

Richie snorted. “No shit. You look more like you’re related to Mike than to him.”

“Cut it out, Richie,” Eddie scolded.

“Sorry,” Richie murmured. “Went too far.”

“‘S fine,” Wren replied, smiling. “I mean, we’re obviously not blood related. Katie ‘n I are, but we’re not to Jack.”

“We’re blended,” Jack explained. “Adopted.”

“But what’s that got to do with the weird stuff happening in Derry?” Mike asked.

Wren and Jack looked to each other and took a deep breath. 

“Daddy’s a monster,” Katie explained matter-of-factly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: ok gotta do the race reveal reeeeaaaallll nice  
fic!Richie: I'm gonna do it  
Me: nonono  
fic!Richie: here it comes  
Me: NONONO stop  
fic!Richie: Here we goooooo  
Me: beep b--  
fic!Richie: tHEY'RE BLACK
> 
> So, uh. Just know I had something more elegant planned, but then Richie was Richie and...yeah.
> 
> I also wanted to do my best to turn Richie into the likable guy whose jokes sometimes go too far, because movie!Richie just seems like a jerk to me?? And someone I would NOT want as a friend. So idk.
> 
> Pennywise has his prey in mind. How can he be stopped now? Only time will tell.


	15. New Plan

The children all fell into a stunned silence, which, really, was to be expected. In fact, the entire fair’s boisterous noise seemed to be sucked out, as if they’d entered a vacuum. 

It was Georgie who spoke first, setting aside his grass weaving and leaning into Katie’s space. “A monster?” He asked with a sort of frightened excitement, “you mean like...the kind that hides under your bed, or in your closet?” 

“Nope!” Katie said brightly, grabbing her rabbit and carefully affixing the daisy chain she’d made to the stuffed animal’s well-worn neck. “He’s like the monster here, only different. He doesn’t do all the scary stuff you were mentioning.” She smiled, petting the rabbit and setting it in her lap. “He’s good and nice. And his teeth are funny.”

“Teeth?” Ben asked, though it sounded like he really didn’t want to. 

Katie nodded again, holding up all over fingers against her open mouth and doing her best to scowl. “Like that!” She said brightly, looking around her knees for more buttercups. 

“Hold on,” Richie leaned forward, looking between Wren and Jack nervously. “You’re tellin me, that your dad’s a...a freakin’ It?!”

“They’re called Glamours, technically,” Wren replied primly. “But yes.”

“And he hasn’t fu-freakin’,” Richie amended after Bill flared at him, “how are you not dead?!”

Bev glanced at Wren and Jack. “He’s different, isn’t he? Your dad.” 

“Are you insane?!” Richie babbled. “Holy sweet hot dog on a stick, we are so screwed!”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Stan said gently. 

Jack looked at Bev and nodded. “Yeah. I’ve never seen ‘im get mad or scary with kids. He’s super cool, but also really goofy.” He elbowed Wren. “‘Member when he made that paper boat for the little Waterway Race last summer? He actually won, but he let some little boy whose boat’d sunk have it?”

Wren nodded. “Yeah. Sammy. He was so shy taking the medal.” She thought a moment and poked Jack. “Oh! Remember when that little girl at the parade kept getting scared by all the loud noises of the drums? He bought her a pair of earmuffs so she couldn’t hear them anymore!” 

“Oh yeah!” Jack shrugged in Richie’s direction. “Not very metal, but that’s how he is.” 

“Is he here?” Mike asked, glancing around. 

“Nah,” Jack shook his head. “You wouldn’t be able to see ‘im if he was, though. He blends in really well.”

“Just like the clown,” Eddie murmured. 

“Speaking of clowns,” Stan mused, “wasn’t one on that stage before?”

Richie turned immediately to look. “It’s gone. Oh sh-oh crap.”

Wren frowned, worried.”...we should go,” she said. “Get home for dinner. Dad’s probably worried sick.” 

“W-wait,” Bill interrupted as Wren and Jack got up and the older girl helped Katie from the grass. “I th-think it m-might be helpful,” he said, turning to the rest of his friends, “to have one of It on our s-side.” 

“Are you completely cuckoo bananas, Denbrough?!” Richie shrieked. “You wanna actually meet a monster?! That’s insane!”

“He has a point, Richie,” Bev pointed out. “Their dad seems like he’d be okay to be around, and he might be able to help us with, y’know...It.” 

“It could work,” Ben said. “Might as well try it.” 

“As long as he’s not gonna try to gimme a heart attack,” Eddie said crossly, “I’m in.” Mike and Stan nodded in agreement. 

“Ok-kay, then,” Bill nodded to Wren and Jack. “We’ll meet t-tomorrow. My p-parents are gonna b-be at work.” 

“I can meet you somewhere,” Bev offered, “so you don’t get lost.”

“That’s okay,” Wren replied, smiling, “we’ll find you.” And with that, she, Jack, and Katie walked off together. 

“Weird bunch,” Richie muttered, digging his toe in the dirt. 

Bev turned to look at Bill. “How do we know they’re tellin the truth?” 

Bill sighed, staring after them. “Only one way t-to find out-t,” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick little interlude before we get to some more exciting chapters. I promise you, if you've liked everything so far, you will LOVE what comes next! 
> 
> (Hopefully.)


	16. Humble Pie

It was raining again when Aziraphale, Crowley, and his little family set off for the Denbrough house. It wasn’t a heavy rain, more like a light drizzling that dampened their shoulders as they walked. Both of the supernatural entities were on high alert; after all, they didn’t want to accidentally cross paths with the other Glamour. Especially not now.

Wren, Jack, and Katie were all sharing an umbrella, staying close together. Crowley had told them that the other Glamour knew they were there, and might try to separate them, so they were being very careful to stay together. It didn’t stop them from kicking rocks into puddles, or splashing through pools of rainwater on the street and sidewalk, though. 

Aziraphale walked beside Crowley, keeping an eye on the Glamour. His eyes glowed faintly under the sunglasses, and a shadow of teeth was visible just past his parted lips. This was hunting behavior, though Aziraphale wasn’t sure what he was after. Crowley had been confident he could find the house they needed; maybe he was tracing fears.

Crowley stopped in front of one of the suburban homes, and with a shudder that seemed to unsettle his bones, his eyes ceased to glow and his teeth were tucked away. “This is the place.” He looked over Aziraphale’s head back towards the children, who had stopped to let Katie pick a flower. “C’mon. You’d better go up and ring the bell.”

Aziraphale took the umbrella from the children, folding it up and hanging it over his wrist neatly. The Campsite Kids stood on the doorstep together, Crowley and Aziraphale on the net step down, and rang the bell.

“Do you think the children will react badly to you being a Glamour?” Aziraphale asked.

“Probably,” Crowley replied in a hushed tone. “The only kind of monster like me they’ve known is the clown, so I can’t imagine they’ll warm to me right away.”

“Could they hurt you?” Aziraphale asked. “Glamours are creatures of belief, after all.” Wren pressed the doorbell again, and Katie jumped up and down impatiently.

Crowley pocketed his hands, thinking about the Agent’s question. “Hm. If they were all trying at once, I’d imagine so. But I think I’d have to be hunting.”

Aziraphale had another question on his tongue, but the door opened before he could get it out. A slender boy with mousy hair and a striped tee shirt opened the door. Crowley identified him as Fear of Death. Interesting. His eyes flickered behind the boy and into the house. Fear of Clowns and Hypochondriac were also standing nearby. Fear of Birds, Fear of The Mummy, and the bright, shining, loud Fear of My Father that had brought him here were inside. A slew of different fears swam around the young boy in the house, but much like Katie’s fears, it was hard to interpret.

“Hey,” Fear of Death said, looking from the children to the adults.

“Hi,” Wren smiled. “Can we come in?”

“Whoa,” Fear of Clowns whispered to Hypochondriac as they stepped over the threshold. “It’s so weird! He doesn’t look like a Glamour.”

Crowley began to shiver. He was wet, the house was cool and dark, and all the fears of the children surrounding him were a little overwhelming. His stomach began to growl when most of the fear in the room shifted to him.

“Bill, Richie, Eddie,” Wren said, sweeping her hand around the room, “this is my dad.”

“Crowley,” Crowley gave a little dramatic half-bow. Knowing their names helped a bit, but there was a lot of fear still permeating the space, and though he was keeping his body tightly wound, the chill settling into his bones was becoming nearly unbearable. “Pleasure.”

“Right, okay,” Richie seemed to shake himself, looking to Eddie. “There’s a frikin...monster, thing, dressed like a punk rocker, standing in front of me. Am I the only one about to crap my pants?”

Eddie made a face. “If you soil yourself, I’m leaving!”

Bill tried to smile, but it was timid and unconvincing. “Um, c-c’mon in,” He led the group into the kitchen. Stan had rejoined the group from the bathroom (Crowley noted that he seemed to be afraid of a picture of a woman with a flute. Huh), and was now seated with the others around the kitchen table. Georgie lit up when he saw Katie and ran forward to embrace her. Katie giggled, hugging him back.

“T-this is C-Crowley,” Bill introduced, going around with all of the children’s names. Crowley smiled at each of them, hoping he wasn’t showing any teeth.

“Oh,” Crowley added, “This is my friend, Aziraphale. He’s come to help, too.”

“Is he an It, too?” Stan asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“No, dear boy,” Aziraphale replied, chuckling. “I’m...well, it’s rather hard to explain, actually…”

“He’s the Other Side,” Crowley interrupted. “Now, before we get started…” He turned to Bill, smiling sheepishly, “is there coffee, by chance?”

~

Bev was the only one who knew how to make coffee. It was instant stuff, but Crowley didn’t mind that. He was more interested in using the hot drink to warm him up, and to hopefully fill his stomach with liquid. He wasn’t, of course, going to eat the children. He couldn’t even call himself tempted to, really. It was just that, well...Glamours carry a bit of natural ego, and he wasn’t used to a lot of fear being directed at him all at once, from so many different sources. 

It was distracting enough to remind him that he was in full starvation mode, and if he didn’t eat by the end of this cycle, he would starve to death. And that is not a pleasant way to go, for humans or Glamours.

The children’s conversation had turned into a buzz; Crowley felt suddenly dizzy, and his vision blurred for a moment. He felt worn down, as if he had just flown five thousand miles in a single wingbeat. Maybe the group’s core belief was having an effect on him.

“Daddy?” 

He came to when Katie grabbed his arm. Crowley blinked, suddenly feeling quite nauseous. (The coffee wasn’t helping anymore, it seemed.) “Yes, sweetheart?”

Katie’s dark eyes were wide and sad. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Crowley was about to respond when he felt Wren and Jack at his sides. Their warmth strengthened him, their love surrounding him, and he breathed it in like the finest perfume, sighing deeply. He patted Wren’s hand, who kissed his forehead, and smiled at Jack, who squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. Then, he turned to Katie, lifting her into his lap. 

“I’ll be all right,” he promised, smiling. Then, he looked across at the other children. “You’re strong like this, together. Granted, I’d rather not have it directed at me, but it’s a good start.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale said, spreading his power throughout the room. All of the Good aura didn’t help Crowley’s nausea or weakness, but it did help get rid of the fear, which felt like a weight off his shoulders.

“Did we almost kill you?!” Mike asked, startled.

“Not gonna lie, that would’ve been pretty cool,” Richie beamed. Eddie and Stan both elbowed him. “Hey! It would’ve, though!”

Ben cocked his head. “Can we do that to the other It, d’ya think, Mr. Crowley?”

Crowley leaned back in his chair, getting some semblance of comfortable. Katie climbed down from his lap, and Wren and Jack sat down on the nearest chairs. “Well, the clown has a distinct advantage over me. I’m very weak, since I don’t operate like he does.” His eyes passed briefly over Beverly, and he felt his teeth grow. “But,” he said, tucking them away, “your unity is important.”

Bill nodded. “We c-can do that. S-stick together.” The others nodded. “What else d-do we n-need to know?”

Crowley spent the better part of the morning and early afternoon explaining things, answering questions, and helping the children build a strategy. He’d agreed to help lure the clown in using Bill as bait. It was a risky plan, but it could work.

Crowley found himself continuously drawn to Bev’s fear like a magnet. He couldn’t help it; any hungry creature that sees a potential for food wants to eat, and Crowley hadn’t eaten in a very long time. It didn’t help that Bev had a very distinct reason to fear her father, and the fact that he was a disgusting waste of human space only made the Glamour hungrier.

Aziraphale, able to sense Crowley was getting distracted by his hunger, leaned in close. “Really, dear boy,” he scolded, “now is not the time.”

Crowley jumped, blinking out of his trance. “Right,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

But Beverly had seen Crowley looking at her. And she found herself more curious than afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Poor Crowley, honestly. It's like going to a buffet that only serves stuff you're allergic to. It smells good, but you don't want to eat any of it. 
> 
> I'm still sick, damn it. Gonna cough up my lungs, brb


	17. Beverly

After all of the planning had been finished and the boys were all making sandwiches while Aziraphale watched Georgie and Katie play, Bev walked right up to Crowley, half asleep by the stairs.

“Crowley?” The redhead asked, resting her hand on the railing at the landing.

The Glamour started, perking up. “Yes? Oh, Beverly,” he smiled with perhaps a few too many teeth. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Bev shifted on her feet. “Look, can we talk? Alone?” She could feel the eyes of both Bill and Ben watching her from down the hall.

Crowley chuckled, pushing himself off the wall in a way that anyone who has worked a 12-hour shift on their feet all day could relate to, and followed Bev out to the back porch.

Beverly was a bit nervous turning her back on Crowley, but the Glamour had shown no indication of wanting to hurt her. Well, at least she trusted Wren enough to think he didn’t mean to. There was a certain hunger in his posture when he looked at her, and she could’ve sworn she saw his eyes glowing.

There was a creak and a grunt behind her, and she whipped around, only to find that Crowley had flopped down inelegantly onto the Denbrough’s old porch swing. The creature was reclining lazily, his wavy hair falling about his shoulders, the tops of his sparse bangs brushing against his sunglasses. All in leather and ripped jeans, he really did look like a punk or metal rocker. He was slumped on the swing, one leg with snakeskin boot firmly on the ground, rocking the swing back and forth, the other stretched out before him. One arm was propping him up against the swing while the other was curled around his stomach.

“So,” the creature known as Crowley asked, “what’s on your mind, Miss Marsh?”

The fact that he knew her last name, even though she’d never said it, startled her. “Y-you…”

Crowley hummed, tilting his head. In his throat, a snake’s hiss bubbled. “I read fears, Bev.” He cleared his throat, looking away, down the identical block of homes. “I know what they all fear. I know what you fear, too.”

Beverly shivered in the cool air of the rain-damp streets, following Crowley’s gaze for a moment, lost in thought. A movement in the corner of her eye made her turn to find that Crowley was holding the red cardigan that went with her dress in his hand. It’d been hanging in the hall; perhaps he’d summoned it. “Thank you,” she said, pulling it on. “It’s cold out here, after a rain.”

“Mm,” Crowley replied, stretching. He still wasn’t looking directly at her. 

Since he wasn’t going to explain himself, Beverly figured she’d take the high ground he was offering. “You didn’t look at the others the way you look at me,” she began. “I...I know I’m very pretty…”

“Oh, really, Bev,” Crowley said quietly, peering over his sunglasses at her. For a flash, she saw what she thought were gold snake eyes that glittered like honeycombs in the light. “That’s disgusting even for a creature like me. Pull the other leg.”

Bev chuckled despite herself, winding her fingers through the curls at the nape of her neck. “I saw your teeth,” she said. “They look a bit like a shark’s teeth. Not what I expected.”

Crowley shifted, making the swing squeak. “I don’t want to scare you, Bev.”

“You didn’t.” Bev smiled, a bit sadly. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Crowley hummed, resting his head against his palm. 

Beverly took a deep breath. “I had a chance to talk to Jack, about what kind of abuse he ran away from. What he went through...it sounds a lot like…” She looked down at her feet, sighing shakily. “My dad, he…” A few tears escaped, but she hugged herself, trying to get it out without crying. “He...he loves me...I know he does...he has to, right? But…” Her voice cracked. “I...I don’t…”

The swing creaked, and then Crowley was standing beside her, arms crossed over his chest. The hand facing toward her held a handkerchief with his tattoo embroidered on the corner. She took it gladly and wiped her tears away.

“Beverly,” Crowley began, “I think you’re strong and brave and resilient. But because of your fears, I’ve seen,” the creature paused, letting out a breath that was half a hiss. “I know I didn’t really explain it to the others. What I do in my own territory.” 

Beverly looked up at him, but Crowley was staring out to the street. “You help kids,” she said. “You fix broken things.”

“Where I can,” Crowley said modestly.

“You can eat my dad,” Beverly said firmly.

Crowley jumped, staring at her as if she’d just caught on fire. “Y-you don’t have to decide that right now…I don’t want to pressure you. I’m in no hurry…”

“I know.” Bev looked up at him, mouth set in a firm line. “I want you to.”

Crowley swallowed visibly and grew a shade paler and a few pounds thinner. He only had a few extra teeth when he turned to the street and spoke again, nodding. “Okay. I can do that.”

Beverly turned to watch the road, watch the rain dance its way into the sewer. “So, once I’m an orphan,” she began, “what then?”

“Well, you have options,” Crowley replied. “You can stay with family, if you have any.”

“I do,” Bev replied. “But they’re far away...I don’t want to leave my friends.”

“The orphans usually stay with me,” Crowley said wistfully. “The ones I rescue come home with me to London.”

“Like Wren and Jack and Katie.”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t kill…”

Crowley grinned fondly. “I take in all orphans, not just my rescues.”

“Oh.” Beverly gripped the railing in front of her, rocking on her toes. “‘S very kind of you.”

“I like to think so,” Crowley smiled at her.

Silence. Rain fell outside, dancing on the overhang above their heads.

“When are you gonna eat him?” Bev asked. “Should I go pack my things now, or…?”

Crowley chuckled warmly. “No. Not yet.” He sighed, leaning against a column, staring out at the rain. “I’m not like him. I’m serpentine. I need time to...digest, to put a fine point on it.” He pocketed his hands, straightening his stance. “Once we deal with the clown…” He bit his lip, nodding to himself. “I’m not thinking about it before then.”

“I don’t know what he’s afraid of,” Beverly said. “I never thought about it.”

“Men like him are cowards,” Crowley replied. Then, he turned to look at her. “You’re sure about this?”

Beverly nodded.

“Once he’s gone, he’s gone forever.”

Another nod.

“You have time to change your mind, Bev.”

“I’m not going to.” Bev replied. “He hurt me.” She looked away, hugging herself. “I don’t want him to hurt me anymore.”

A cool hand rested on her shoulder, and when she looked up, Crowley was standing over her, face and demeanor kind and gentle. “Then we’ll make sure he can’t,” he replied. “I can’t interfere yet, but…”

Bev hugged him tightly. “Thank you.” She looked up at him, smiling. “I’m happy to join your little crew.”

Crowley hugged her back. “You’re welcome. Now, go run along.”

Beverly disappeared into his house, and Crowley went back to watching the rain.

~

Alvin Marsh was not easily spooked. 

Walking back from a late shift at the factory in the dark was normal. Seeing cars parked on the street was normal. But surely the fact that a grey Bentley had appeared on every street so far was...odd, to say the least.

Americans preferred good ol’ American cars, not those showy British cars.

Alivin was strolling down his street, deciding there must be tourists in town or something, swinging his keys and whistling, when, between beats, he could’ve sworn he heard someone walking behind him. When he turned to look, though, no one was there. Just him and the streetlights.

“Stupid kids,” he muttered. “Playing pranks on me. Doesn’t scare me, no sir.”

As he walked up to his door, he heard rustling at his feet. Alvin scrambled to turn on the porchlight, but it was just a snake, slithering away through the overgrown garden. Hmph. He’d tell Bevvie to set some traps. That’d teach it.

Grumbling, Alvin let himself into his house, only jumping a little when a car’s lights shone outside and “Bohemian Rhapsody” blared from a speaker system as the car drove away.

~

Crowley slipped into the hotel room, chuckling, only to be met with a very unhappy Aziraphale. 

“I do hope you’re proud of yourself, Crowley!” The Agent hissed in a low voice. “Distracting yourself, making yourself hungrier! You promised you’d hold off until we were finished here!”

Crowley chuckled. “Relax, angel, I have every intention of keeping my promise.” He flopped down onto the couch, licking his lips. “Just let me do some seasoning. Adds extra flavor.” The Glamour closed his eyes, sighing as his stomach growled. “Mm. Delicious.”

Aziraphale tutted. “I don’t care if he’d an abuser. It’s still disgusting.”

“Oh, hush,” Crowley grinned. “Just think of it as...a microcosm of the universe.”

“Insufferable creature,” Aziraphale huffed. “And that’s not even how you use that word in a sentence!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beverly doesn't look like a real name anymore. RIP.
> 
> Had to reference a Crowley line cause that's how I do. I was gonna have him say "salt the meat," but I don't think Crowley really...likes...talking about the process he has to go through to eat. Not like Pennywise who brags about it, anyway.
> 
> Hate myself a little for writing this before bed. Be grateful for my nightmares.
> 
> I really appreciate every comment, you guys! I feel like this fic has a cult following, and I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it!


	18. Bait

Crowley felt a renewed vigor now that he knew he had a potential prey item. 

He was determined to let Bev know, even at the last minute, that she had the right to tell him not to eat her father, but it seemed as though the young girl would be relieved to be rid of him which, really, was probably for the best, considering.

The Campsite Kids could feel their father’s rejuvenation, and were chomping at the bit to confront the Glamour that was troubling their new friends. Aziraphale was amazed at their loyalty, and the fact that they seemed completely unfazed by what Crowley was planning to do to Bev’s father.

The group was walking to the Denbrough house in preparation for their first attempt at a lore. Crowley had told the group that Glamours tended to be patient predators, waiting in the shadows, watching from afar until the time was right to strike. Aziraphale had told them that the sewers were probably a good place to start, which Mike seconded, showing the group a picture of the long, winding sewers throughout lower Derry.

It was raining again, much harder than it had been the previous day. The children were armed with warm bagels and cream cheese from a local shop, Aziraphale armed with tea. Crowley would usually drink coffee, but he declined this morning, and Aziraphale guessed it had something to do with “seasoning” the abusive Mr. Marsh.

The Agent sighed, twirling his umbrella absently as they walked. He couldn’t really bring himself to condone the eating of humans, even though he agreed that Mr. Marsh wasn’t exactly a very decent person. After all, murder is murder, even if it is justifiable.

Wren and Jack, both dressed in rain jackets in what Aziraphale could guess were their favorite colors (red for Wren, dark blue for Jack), were walking side by side, munching on their bagels and chatting. Katie, dressed head to toe in neon pink raingear, darted around them, splashing through puddles and giggling.

“Stay away from the storm drains, Katie,” Crowley told her. His hair was damp, but he didn’t seem to be shivering just yet. 

Aziraphale overheard a conversation between Wren and Jack and walked a bit closer to listen in.

“You saw dad talking to Bev yesterday, right?” Wren asked.

“Yeah, she told me.” Jack splashed a bit in a puddle. “‘M glad. I hope dad can help her.”

“Think so. He’s good at that sorta thing.” Wren took a thoughtful bite of her bagel.

Jack nodded, finishing his off and crumpling up the paper to put in his pocket. “Kinda wish I could watch. Makes me think what it woulda been like if he’d rescued me from my dad.”

Wren smiled sadly and held his hand, squeezing gently. “I don’t think you’d remember much. Remember? Dad’s got those lights inside of him.”

“I don’t remember much, anyway,” Jack admitted, squeezing back. “Probably for the best, though.”

Aziraphale frowned. He’d thought Jack’s interest in the creepier part of Crowley had been some sort of masculine-child-only interest. (What was that tiresome saying? “Boys shall be boys” or something to that effect?) It seemed as though Jack’s past, whatever it may have been, made him eerily similar to Bev, and had even made him wish that he’d been rescued by the creature he called his father. Interesting. He’d file that away for later.

Crowley paused, hands in his pockets. A serpentine tongue flickered out from between his lips to taste the air, and then he started up the front path of one of the homes at a swift pace.

“Daddy?” Katie asked, following him. 

Wren and Jack walked after him as well, following the youngest in their group. Crowley was fiddling with the door lock, opening it and letting the others inside. “The clown’s been here,” he told the others. 

Aziraphale folded his umbrella and stretched his senses out, shuddering. “Yes, he has. Not for very long, though, and I can’t pinpoint where.”

“Basement,” Crowley said. He turned to the children. “Go up and tell Bill and Georgie that we’re here. I’m going to check out the basement.” He looked to Aziraphale. “Come with me.”

Aziraphale nodded, and the children darted up the stairs. “They’ll be safe up there?”

“It isn’t here anymore,” Crowley explained. “But Bill said yesterday that his dad works with the company the built the sewers, so I’m wondering if their house is connected to the rest of the pipe system. I mean,” he amended, “in a more obvious way than usual.”

They walked down into the small, dark basement. It looked fairly ordinary; a washer and dryer shoved into the corner, tools and emergency kits on metal shelves along the wall, fishing gear and sports gear shoved against the back wall. The floors were damp, probably from the heavy rain. It was eerily silent below the house.

“What are we looking for?” Aziraphale whispered, afraid to break the silence.

“Shh,” Crowley replied, taking off his glasses. His eyes were closed, but Aziraphale could feel a thrum of power coming from his body. “Give me a second. You might need to look away.” When he opened his eyes, they were devoid of pupils, glowing a bright yellow-orange that seemed to cast light on every shadow in the room. Cave crickets and spiders fled from the light, and Aziraphale shut his eyes.

After a few moments, Crowley put his sunglasses on, wobbling on his feet. Aziraphale hastened to help, wrapping Crowley’s arm around his shoulders, his own arm gripping the Glamour’s slim waist. “What was that all about, dear?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley, breathing heavily, started limping towards the stairs. “I was looking for anything unusual, anything he could’ve used to come in through the sewer system. Didn’t find anything.” He held tightly to the railing, barely supporting himself as the two beings walked up the stairs. “Just got the wind knocked out of me a bit ‘s all.”

Aziraphale helped Crowley sit at the kitchen table, but no sooner had he lowered him into a chair, then Jack appeared on the stairs. “Hey, dad? Bill wants t’talk with ya.”

“Coming,” Crowley replied, standing up carefully. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his spine and sauntered up the stairs after Jack. Aziraphale followed.

~

“What’s up, Bill?” Crowley asked, reclining in Bill’s desk chair, one leg crossed over the other, arms lazily hugging his chest.

Bill was sat up in bed, surrounded by a bunch of pillows. Georgie and Katie were playing boats on the landing, while Wren and Jack stood nearby. “I was gonna t-try t-to call ya, Mr. Crowley. I’ve g-got flu, so I’m n-no good as b-bait today.”

“I’ll go!” Georgie called from the hall. “I’ll be bait!”

“Absolutely n-not, Georgie,” Bill replied. “‘S t-too dangerous. You could g-get hurt.”

“I would be sure to step in before any harm could come to your brother,” Aziraphale chimed in. ‘I promise you that. On my honor.”

“And I’ll be concealed nearby,” Crowley added. “Like we talked about in the plan yesterday.” 

“He’ll be safe, Bill,” Aziraphale promised.

“Yeah!” Katie said. “Daddy’s the best! He’d never let anybody hurt Georgie!”

“Please, Billy?” Georgie placated. “I wanna help.”

Billy took a deep breath, then let it out. “Okay, fine.”

“Yay!” Georgie jumped up and down, grinning at Katie. “We get to help catch the mean ol’ clown!”

Bill lay back against his pillows, looking exhausted. “You’d b-better wear your r-raincoat, Georgie. Don’t w-wanna get s-sick like m-me.”

“You’re all better off staying here,” Crowley told his children. “Look out for Bill, and don’t go in the basement for any reason, okay?”

“Yessir,” the children chorused. 

“Good.” Crowley smiled, glancing briefly at Bill lying asleep in bed. “And try not to catch what he’s got.”

The kids giggled, and set about grabbing Bill’s Monopoly game from his shelf.

~

Having donned his yellow raincoat and hat, Georgie set out to go play in the rain. 

He set his little paper boat on the side of the road, running along after it as fast as his legs could carry him. It sailed along in the swift river rushing towards the sewer grate, until, unable to catch up to it in time, the boat sailed into the sewer.

Georgie fell to his knees, peering into the sewer. “Bill’s gonna kill me,” he muttered to himself.

The appearance of two yellow eyes suddenly appearing from the darkness of the sewer startled the young boy, and he scrambled backwards in surprise. The eyes stepped into the light, revealing just enough of a clown face for Georgie to realize...oh. Yes, this was the creature he needed to be looking out for.

“Hiya, Georgie,” the creature said, its voice friendly enough. There was something light and airy to it, but also very, very wrong in its tone, like too many wrong notes struck by an inexperienced pianist. “What a nice boat. Do you want it back?”

From afar, concealed even from the Glamour, Aziraphale stood, keeping a watchful eye on Georgie. Crowley was in a better position to protect Georgie, should the creature try to lunge out of the sewer and take him, but if Crowley failed to act, his magic was of a much swifter kind. So far, though, the Glamour seemed to be turning on the charm, lulling Georgie into a false sense of security.

“I like popcorn because they pop!” Pennywise, as he had introduced himself, replied. Delighted, giggling a bit. “Pop, pop, pop! Pop, pop!”

Georgie giggled, too. And then, a silence. The creature was watching him, piercing into his soul with those golden eyes. It was very unsettling.

“Alright,” Georgie began, “I think I should be going now.”

“Oooh,” Pennywise crooned, “without your boat? You don’t wanna lose it, Georgie. Bill’s gonna kill ya.” He held up the boat, just out of safe reach. “Go on, Georgie. Take it.”

Georgie reached forward hesitantly. As soon as he was close enough, Pennywise grabbed onto Georgie’s arm, opening his mouth with many sharp teeth. Georgie, frightened, squirmed, but before Pennywise could bite down, a snake, black as coal with copper highlights and a deep red underbelly shot out of his sleeve. It reared up, its golden eyes glowing in the dark of the sewer, spitting venom straight at Pennywise.

The clown roared, recoiling, rubbing his hands on his face, letting go of Georgie, who fell back, trembling. The snake grew from the size of a garter snake to that of a python, wrapping its long coils loosely around Georgie, its smooth, arrow-shaped head facing the sewer.

“Gah!” The clown snarled, facing the serpent’s head. “You! It’s you those little brats belong to, eh?” The creature shook himself, bones seeming to fall out of place. “You took my prey! That’s mine!” A bit of a whine seemed to enter Pennywise’s tone. “Give it back! I earned it!”

Crowley hissed, baring his fangs and showing what lurked beyond his serpentine throat, rows of teeth and glowing Deadlights further down his gullet. Venom dripped off his fangs, purple and green and black as night.

“You’ll e sorry!” Pennywise shrieked. “You’ll all be sorry! You and that great pansey of a Turtle-meat thing, too!” He backed away, retreating down the pipes. “I’ll eat you all!”

Soon, Pennywise’s maniacal laughter was all that remained, and even that died down, too.

Georgie began to shake, and Crowley realized that he was still protectively wound around the boy. He loosened his muscles, sliding back into full form as Aziraphale came close. “Are you all right, Georgie?” Crowley asked, resting his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“Well! Certainly left that until the very last minute! Must you be so dramatic?”

Crowley ignopred him. “Georgie, did I hurt you?”

Georgie shook his head. “N-no,” he sniffled. “That was...scary.”

“I know, dear boy,” Aziraphale comforted as Crowley let out a sigh of relief. “Don’t worry. It’s over now.”

The three got up off the ground and headed home through the rain. “Oh! Darn.” Georgie pouted.

“What is it?” Crowley asked.

Georgie frowned. “He took my boat!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Pennywise killing Georgie is probably the most gruesome and horrifying scene in IT. Change my mind.
> 
> Luckily, Crowley was around to help! :D We did it!!!
> 
> Pretty sure I've got the flu, but somehow, I'm still writing this. Go me...?


	19. Neibolt

It took a while for Bill to get back on his feet after his flu, but once he was better, the Losers and the Campsite Kids gathered together once again, under a different roof this time.

Aziraphale had made sandwiches and iced tea in preparation, and now, the children sat around the low coffee table passing the food from one end to the other. Stan had brought homemade matza bread and Ben had brought his mom’s chocolate chip cookies to share. It was a veritable feast, a suitable welcome back party for Bill.

Aziraphale had settled down to read in the corner of the room by the door, giving the kids the space they needed to bond, since this was important for the final battle. Crowley, however, was sprawled out on the couch, asleep, breathing deeply. The children were being considerate, but even so, there was a decent amount of noise. Still, Crowley slept on.

Aziraphale was beginning to get concerned about the Glamour. Crowley had seemed to be doing better for a while, vigor renewed by the thought of a promised meal after so long, but it seemed as though his starvation was catching up to him.

His children didn’t seem concerned, which Aziraphale took to be a good sign. Crowley was serpentine, after all; maybe he was recharging, storing energy, preparing for battle.

“What about the Neibolt house?” Mike asked. They’d been talking for a while about Pennywise’s potential lairs, inspired by Wren and Jack talking about the place they lived that served as their father’s lair, the campsite.

“That rickety old thing?” Richie scoffed. “Besides, doesn’t it live in the sewers?”

“Yeah, b-but,” Bill took a lip of his iced tea, “t-that’s where Eddie s-saw the Leper.”

“Twice!” Eddie squirmed. “It was sooo gross!”

“So,” Bill went on, “b-bet it’s g-got something t-there it likes.”

“It’s a good start,” Bev said thoughtfully, “but that place is so creepy.”

“And it can’t be safe!” Eddie protested. “Just thinking about all the rusty nails and broken floorboards gives me the creeps!”

“If the frikin clown is there, it’ll super give ya the creeps, Eddie,” Richie teased.

“Daddy can come!” Katie looked up from the coloring book she and Georgie were pouring over. “He’ll make it safe!”

“Dad’s resting,” Wren pointed out.

“Sure is. What’s wrong with ‘im anyway?” Richie thumbed over his shoulder at the sleeping Glamour. “Don’t they only sleep every 27 years, or somethin?”

“Well,” Ben said, “he is different, y’know. Maybe he doesn’t sleep that often.”

“He’ll be fine,” Jack reassured them. “But yeah, he can’t come.”

“Neither c-can you,” Bill pointed to the younger ones. “‘S t-too dangerous.”

“Aww, c’mon!” Georgie wailed. “I faced down the monster! All by myself! Kinda!”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, either,” Stan said. “You’re both too young. And if we’re goin alone…”

“I’ll go with you,” Aziraphale stood up, walking over to the children. “The least I can do is to accompany you there. I’ll make sure nothing bad happens along the way.”

“T-then it’s s-settled,” Bill said, looking around at his company. “We’re going t-to the Neibolt h-house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry. I had a bit of an ego, and it doesn’t suit me. I never meant to hurt or alienate anyone, and I want to go back to what writing fic is all about: enjoying the worlds you create. 
> 
> I’m sorry for hurting your feelings. You guys have made me feel so special, which I don’t deserve. This fic is not my best. It’s sloppy and repetitive, but somehow, for a while, it was something you guys enjoyed. 
> 
> I will be continuing it, even if no one ever reads it again. I don’t like leaving things unfinished when the muse requests it. 
> 
> The sequel will follow soon after, for anyone still interested. I love you all. Please forgive me.


	20. Fly Away

Crowley woke up to Katie and Georgie squabbling over which one of them had broken a crayon.

“You were the last one who had it!”

“You always press too hard on the page!”

“Hey, hey,” Crowley mumbled groggily, waving his hand between them. “Easy now, calm down, I can fix your crayon.” He yawned loudly, stretching like a cat in the sun. “Give it here.”

Katie handed over the coveted orange crayon, and with a few twists of it between his fingers, the crayon was as good as new. 

“Thanks, daddy!”

“Thanks, Mr. Crowley!”

Crowley nodded, sitting up with a grunt. His body felt heavy, his muscles aching like he’d been running consecutive marathons for a week straight. Sleeping had helped a little, but between overusing his powers and fighting off Pennywise, he felt extremely fatigued. He was even too empty to be truly hungry, which was a bad sign. The Glamour took a deep breath, drawing energy from the vigor of the children that had been in this room not too long ago; their fear and liveliness and…

Wait...where were they?

“Georgie, where’s your brother?” Crowley asked. “He and the rest of the kids were supposed to come here for lunch.”

“We did,” Georgie said brightly. “Everybody went down to the Neibolt House to see if they could find the clown’s lair.” He frowned. “Said we were too young to go.”

“They’re probably right about that,” Crowley replied, “at least if they were going unsupervised.”

“Angel went with them,” Katie said, hugging her rabbit and getting up off the floor. “I’m scared, daddy...I don’t like the clown.”

“I know, love,” Crowley replied, putting a hand on her shoulder and smiling gently at her. “We’re not gonna let the clown get ‘em.”

“But how?” Georgie whined. “We’re here, and town’s a good bike ride away.”

Crowley turned to Georgie. “You know the way?”

Georgie puffed up proudly. “‘Course I do!”

Crowley grinned. “We can get there. C’mon.”

“Daddy,” Katie yanked on his jacket to get his attention, “are you gonna be okay?”

“Mmyeah,” Crowley replied, stretching in the sunlight. He didn’t have much by way of reserve power, but he had enough to get him through until he could eat. He closed his eyes, letting the heat bleed through his black clothes and kick-start the power in his veins. As long as he got a decent amount of sleep from now until a direct confrontation with the other Glamour, he’d be fine. Probably. 

“What are we gonna do?” Georgie asked. 

“Fly,” Crowley grinned, his arms shifting into black wings as his body transformed into a beautiful black bird. The new creature looked like a mix between the sleek body of a crow with the tail of a melanistic peacock. His feathers seemed to glisten with green and blue undertones, and his eyes were a bright, glittering orange.

Katie giggled excitedly, jumping up and down as Crowley bent down to let her get on, but Georgie could only stare in awe.

“Whoa,” the boy murmured. “That’s cool!” His eyes lit up as he scrambled to follow Katie. “But won’t we be seen?”

Crowley squawked and Katie giggled. “Daddy says no.” She paused, as if listening, but the bird was only breathing beneath them, his black feathers soaking up the heat. “Daddy says he needs directions.”

Georgie nodded. “Okay, um...that way!” He pointed, and the bird flapped his wings and took off. 

~

“There it is!” Georgie pointed to an old, run down house that looked to be a few centuries too old. Crowley could feel the power in it, and it was enough to make him flinch. It was like the entire place was charged with static electricity. 

He shifted his form halfway to the ground, holding the two children in his arms as black wings sprouted from between his shoulder blades, giving him a more human appearance as he landed softly on the ground. 

Mike was sitting with Stan on the path, the younger boy looking distraught and frightened. Bev and Ben, however, had turned at their intrusion and ran over to the gate. 

“Crowley!” Bev exclaimed. “What’re ya doin here?” Mike and Stan looked up, listening to the conversation. 

“I didn’t think you should be alone,” Crowley replied, setting Katie and Georgie down carefully. “Where are the others?” 

“None of us wanted to go in, so we drew straws,” Ben explained. “Bill, Richie, and Eddie got the shortest ones. Wren and Jack went to look around back.” 

“And Aziraphale went in with them,” Mike called over. 

Crowley frowned. The fear currently dripping off Stan was practically enough to drown out Beverly’s distracting fear. He walked over to the boys and knelt down. “What’s wrong, Stan?”

Stan shuddered, tears staining his cheeks. “I don’t like it here,” he said quietly. “It feels wrong. I’m worried about Bill ‘n Richie ‘n Eddie too.” 

Crowley gave a reassuring smile. “Nothing too terrible will happen to them while Aziraphale is looking after them. Don’t worry too much.” He straightened up with a grunt, stretching the weariness out of his old bones. He was relieved to see his own children, unharmed, running towards the front of the house. 

" We didn't see anything back there--oh, hi, dad!" Jack greeted.

"We were looking for any sort of well or anything in the back, but didn't see anything," Wren explained.

"Good initiative," Crowley praised. "Well done, you two."

“I feel guilty being left behind now,” Bev admitted. 

“Is there anything we can do?” Ben asked. 

"Yeah, we can go kick some clown ass!" Jack whooped.

"We'll be stronger if we go together," Wren looked around at the group. "I'm ready if you are."

“We can help?” Katie asked. 

“Awesome!” Georgie jumped up and down happily. 

Crowley grinned mischievously. “Yes, I think we can,” he replied. “If there’s anything a Glamour can do well, it’s sneak around.” He started up the steps of the Neibolt House. “C’mon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone still reading: thank you. I appreciate your support in any form it comes in.
> 
> Edit: I added in the Campsite Kids. A new chapter will be coming soon! 
> 
> If you're confused about all the weird author's notes, I was feeling discouraged because I perceived harsh critique of a discord server I opened up on Tumblr recently. However, people in said discord convinced me that it wasn't a negative thing, so I'm opening it up again for anyone who would like to join!
> 
> https://discord.gg/eNAPGHE
> 
> Thanks again. You guys are the best!


	21. Deadlight the Way

“All right,” Aziraphale said as he led the way into the old, dusty, abandoned house, “be sure to stick together. Remember there’s safety in numbers.”

The boys looked around cautiously, having difficulty believing that the clown could be hiding here. 

Richie paused, looking through a pile of papers. He saw what it was, and started shaking. “No. Oh no. It’s...it’s me! On a Missing poster! Shitshitshitshit!”

“Richie, calm down,” Bill grabbed his friend’s shoulder, momentarily losing his stutter in his eagerness to comfort his friend. “It’s not real. N-nothing here is real.” Eddie, worried, came to stand beside Richie, putting his hand on Richie’s other shoulder.

Aziraphale turned around, looking pitifully at the poor terrified boy, who usually only had a sarcastic comment or two. This had clearly shaken him; maybe he feared death, too. (Well, he amended, what human doesn’t fear death in a way?) “He’s right, you know, Richie,” Aziraphale told him calmly. “Nothing created by this Glamour is real. It’s all meant to deceive and frighten.”

“By this Glamour?” Richie asked, dropping the fake Missing poster reluctantly, sticking close to Eddie’s side. “Does that mean Mr. Punk-Rock-of-the-Month is really better than the clown?”

“Well,” Aziraphale mused, “I’m sure that some elements of him are lies, but that can’t be helped. He’s the kindest and most genuine Glamour I’ve ever met.” He neglected to tell the children that he had only ever been formally introduced to one (Crowley) and had only passing relations with another (Pennywise). What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

“You know he’s better’n the clown, Richie,” Eddie waved a spider web away from his head. “ He has kids that live with ‘im. And Bev told me he promised to help her.”

“R-really?” Bill turned to Eddie as they headed up the stairs. “She d-didn’t tell me.”

“Or me,” Richie pouted.

“Maybe cause you don’t listen hard enough, knuckleheads.” Eddie teased.

“M-maybe she’s g-got a c-crush on you,” Bill retorted, giggling. 

“No!” Eddie cried. “Shut up! No she doesn’t!”

“Nah, she’s goo-goo for Ben!” Richie laughed. “Or Wren,” he said thoughtfully. “Both? Is that even possible?”

Aziraphale groaned, rolling his eyes. “Can we focus, gentlemen?”

“Yessir Mr. Aziraphale, sir,” Richie spoke in a bad Irish accent, saluting. The boys giggled.

Aziraphale sighed, wondering why he’d agreed to do this. The old house was absolutely filthy. When was the last time someone vacuumed?

At least Crowley had good taste, he thought.

~

As soon as they were in the foyer, Crowley took a sharp left, tracing his fingers along the walls. The house itself buzzed with Pennywise’s energy, and Crowley was so repulsed by this marking of territory that he began to feel sick to his stomach and very lightheaded. If he’d had anything in his stomach at all, the house might’ve coaxed him to be sick. 

All of the children were very quiet and were sticking very close to him. The fact that Pennywise had marked this so clearly as his territory was seeping into them, making them more afraid than ever. Katie and Georgie were holding onto the loose belt of his jacket, Wren, Jack, Bev, and Ben were all holding hands with each other, and Stan stayed glued to Mike’s side, trembling. Their fear was distracting, but luckily, Crowley was more nauseous than hungry for the moment.

He knocked on the wall, forming the coils of the serpent depicted in his tattoo, and a door appeared in the wall.

“What…?” gasped Mike and Bev simultaneously.

“That’s not possible,” Ben said. “You can’t just...create things out of nothin.”

“I can, and I did,” Crowley replied. “This whole house is only an illusion. Pennywise imagined everything here to be a certain way.”

“The clown,” Georgie explained, taking hold of Katie’s hand with his free one, making Katie let go of his jacket so she could hold her rabbit.

“Dad can work with imagination,” Wren went on, still clutching Jack’s hand, “but so can Pennywise.”

“Exactly,” Crowley turned, his eyes sweeping over the children. “Stay close and follow me. Won’t be much light where we’re going, so watch your step.”

“What are we gonna do?” Stan asked timidly.

“Kick butt,” Jack commented over his shoulder.

Crowley raised an eyebrow at his son, then shrugged. “Well...basically.” He opened the brand new door and stepped into the dark, narrow corridor between the inside and outside wall. “Let’s go.” Katie and Georgie, forming a line behind Crowley, followed after him, with Wren and Jack going inside next. The Losers looked to each other, then, deciding they’d rather be with the friendly IT in the dark than with the unfriendly IT in the light, followed Crowley inside the wall.

~

“Is t-that?”

“I thought I saw…”

“Betty Ripsom!” Eddie cried. “C’mon, Aziraphale, we have to go after her!”

Aziraphale turned, looking at the room the children were staring at. He couldn’t sense exactly where Pennywise was, but now that they’d reached this section of the house, he could sense the Glamour’s influence everywhere. Indeed, the creature had built this space specifically to benefit it. The house might have been a separate entity at one point, but now it was a part of the Glamour itself. And they had reached a sort of central nervous system, with temptations all around.

“She’s not really there,” he told the children. “I guarantee it. She is long dead and gone.” Satisfied, he turned and walked on, not realizing that the children were no longer with him.  
“Richie!” Bill cried, pounding on the door, trying hard to pull it open. “Nonononono.” It was his stupid idea to go here. He pressured everyone to come here, and now Richie was going to die, and it was all his fault. “Aziraphale!” Bill called.

The Agent turned around, realizing the children weren’t following. But the hallway seemed longer than before, and no matter how quickly he commanded himself to travel, it didn’t seem like he was making any progress.

Richie, in the locked room, surrounded by clowns, was shaking hard. Stupid things with their shiny, soulless eyes and brightly colored makeup and rainbow outits and bright red hair…

He remembered the first time he saw a clown in person. As a toddler, he’d loved clowns. He even had a circus-themed bedroom. He used to pretend the little red camper’s tent that used to belong to his big brother when he was in scouts as a kid was a circus tent. He’d set up his elephants and his horses and his dogs and make them perform. He even had a clown doll he slept with every night named Beans the Clown.

But that all changed when his mother took him to see the circus for his fifth birthday. The performing clown moved in a creepy way, shoved a loud honking horn in his face, and squirted water at him despite the fact he was crying. Not to mention the clown gleefully popped balloon animals as he told jokes. That had ruined clowns forever, and Beans ended up in the Goodwill box his mom took over to the Synagogue weekly.

“Beep beep, Richie,” taunted the Glamour, standing poised like a cat about to spring on top of the coffin.

Richie yelled, running for the door, which opened just in time thanks to a little extra help from Aziraphale. They barely had time to breathe, though, for there came a crash from the next floor down. “Eddie!” Richie cried, getting his momentum back quickly, running off towards the noise.

“Richie! Wait!” Bill called, running after him. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath, dusting off his waistcoat. “So much for sticking together,” he mumbled, hurrying after them. “However does Crowley deal with the little rascals? I can’t imagine.”

~

The sound of the crash echoed through the walls. “Shit,” Crowley mumbled under his breath.

Georgie giggled. “Hehe. You said a bad word.” Nobody else thought it was funny, though. Not even Katie, who clutched her rabbit closer to her chest. 

“It’s the clown,” she whimpered, hiding her face in the back of Crowley’s knee.

“Oh.” Georgie grew quiet again. “Sorry.”

“What did it do?” Bev demanded.

“I’m getting claustrophobic…” Stan whined.

“Shh,” Crowley held up a hand to silence them, one hand on his glasses.

“Cover your eyes!” Wren told the children. 

Crowley took his sunglasses off, letting his Deadlights glow out from his eyes. He could see through the walls and into the different rooms, his vision passing over Aziraphale, Richie, and Bill. On the ground floor, Eddie was injured. 

And the clown was there.

Crowley put his glasses on again, his adrenaline so high that he barely felt fatigued. “Coast’s clear,” he told the children, who blinked in the darkness as their eyes adjusted. Crowley tapped the wall in the serpentine pattern he’d used before and opened a new door into the second floor landing. As soon as there was light spilling into the dark corridor, The Losers spilled out into it, running downstairs. “We’re coming, Eddie!”

“Wait!” Crowley called, running after them. “It’s this way.”

“Let’s go,” Bev said, determined. “I’m not afraid.”

Yet, thought Crowley. But he admired the sentiment all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What even are my chapter titles.
> 
> I really want to keep the power the kids have over IT as much as possible, and I want to make it seem like the kids are strong, which they are. So hopefully that comes across.
> 
> Hope everyone likes Richie's little fear backstory...I decided that was more interesting than describing what happens in the film. But I know I have a few people who have never consumed any IT content, so let me know if you're interested in seeing more detail from now on!


	22. Broken Arm

This was too easy, thought Pennywise. 

It had only taken a few minutes to separate the children from each other and from the Turtle-Meat thing. Maturin was as slow and stupid as his agents. A little bit of manipulation had ensured that the agent turned his back long enough for the children to wander off. 

And the weak boy, Eddie, the one he had frightened with the leper, was ripe for the taking. He’d broken his arm in the fall, and Pennywise could sense the pain and fear he had. 

Eddie liked things to look right, so contorting his body as he climbed out of the fridge was an easy way to frighten him. Now it was time to have some fun. 

He looked over Eddie, contorting his face and mocking him. He grabbed Eddie’s good arm and pretended to bite it, delighting in the growing fear rising from Eddie. He was so close to being able to devour him completely. With just a little more seasoning…

“Eddie!” 

Pennywise turned around to see Bill and Richie at the door. He could feel the presence of Turtle-Meat behind them, too. What a shame. He thought he might at least be able to trap the agent in his walls forever. Bill looked stunned, and Pennywise grinned. 

“Am I real enough now for you, Bill?” He teased, getting up in one fluid motion and charging forward. 

A fire poker slammed into his eye, stunning him. Beverly stood before him, holding the end of the metal rod. His vision was greatly distorted now. How dare they all fight back. He could taste all of their fear. 

Pennywise roared, baring his teeth, and the children cowered. He whipped his head from side to side, cutting into the fat boy, until his good eye landed on the other Glamour. The strange Glamour. 

He bowed, grinning, and the snake hissed. Pennywise could see the Deadlights glowing in his eyes. Oh, what fun! The snake was weak and hungry. 

“You’re useless, you snake!” He laughed. “You take my prey, only to let it live?!” 

The snake bristled with anger. “Run and hide, coward.” 

“Me? A coward?” Pennywise backed away nonetheless. He was in no condition to hunt, and he could hide his time. One setback just meant more seasoning, after all. A feast surely awaited him. “Says the Glamour who won’t do what he’s meant to do. You settle for less when you could hold the world in terror!”

The snake hissed. “Leave! Now!” 

Pennywise giggled, slinking away. 

~

“Don’t let him get away!” Bill cried, running after the clown. 

“Bill! Wait!” Aziraphale called. 

“Eddie’s hurt!” Bev called. “We have to help him!”

Bill was able to see over the landing into the open basement. There was an old well that looked more like a pit in the ground where the clown slithered away. 

Meanwhile, Richie set Eddie’s arm, to much screaming. Katie his her face in Crowley’s side, and the Glamour picked her up. 

“We have to call his mom,” Ben said. 

“C’mon, help me lift him!” Mike hoisted Eddie up, and Bill cake to help as well. Richie supported his legs. 

“Where’s the way out?” Bev asked, looking to Crowley.

“This way,” the Glamour said. “Aziraphale, you should look at Ben’s wound once we get out.”

“Right, yes.” Aziraphale fussed with his clothes, feeling a bit on edge after the confrontation with Pennywise. “Bill? Are you coming, lad?”

Bill nodded. “Y-yeah, s-sorry.” He followed Aziraphale out, but kept looking back at the well. Something was significant about that place, and if Aziraphale had been right about this house being an extension of IT, then it was obvious what they had to do.

They had to take the fight to IT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I just can't finish this fic before Halloween. :/


	23. Everything's Broken

It didn’t take the Losers and the Campsite Kids very long to return to town. After hastily bundling Eddie onto Mike’s bike basket, they peddled back to town, Wren and Jack hitching rides with Bev and Bill respectively. Crowley and Aziraphale had taken bird forms, the Glamour bearing the weight of Katie and Georgie on his back while Aziraphale (whose form looked like a albino cockatoo with some dove mixed in) helped the children by speeding their journey back to town.

The two supernatural beings stood aside as Richie and Bill bickered over what to do with Eddie while the other children, helpless, watched. Eventually, Bill’s logic won out, and they used a nearby pay phone to call Eddie’s mother. 

“Shouldn’t we do something?” Aziraphale asked, horrified. “They’re fighting! That can’t be good! And that poor boy’s arm! I can’t believe you let that rough boy set it!”

“Richie was the only person Eddie would’ve trusted to set his arm,” Crowley replied, his voice soft and weary, as if he had a cold. “And I’m never right with bones. You certainly weren’t going to step in. Besides,” he shrugged, “Richie did a fantastic job despite being just as terrified as Eddie.” He smiled fondly. 

Aziraphale glanced sideways at him. “What...do you suppose that means something?” 

Crowley hummed. “Only time will tell, Aziraphale.” 

~

Wren and Jack stepped back to hide with Crowley while Eddie’s mother shouted at the Losers. Crowley was concealing their presence for now; he didn’t exactly want to be around Sonia any more than the children did. He had to hold himself back from stepping in when she dared to call Bev a slut; he could tell Wren had to, as well, as she was taut with concealed rage. 

What was distracting to Crowley, however, was that Eddie’s fears of everything, his hypochondria, increased tenfold when around his mother. There wasn’t any sort of harsh fear like the one that Beverly carried around with her father, but there was a certain taut anxiety floating around Eddie, a shame and fear associated with his mother, but not directly of her. Interesting. 

Crowley swayed, pinching the bridge of his nose to dim his Deadlights. Though his specially made sunglasses blocked out all light, internal and external, his lights could get quite bright when he was hunting, and he didn’t want to accidentally stun the Losers or his own children. 

Aziraphale was shocked to see the children fighting yet again, Richie fussing about Eddie and Ben, showing a caring side that was usually hidden under layers of snark, while Bill and Beverly asserting that they needed to go after the clown before it could hurt anyone else. 

“Let’s all go to the hospital,” Aziraphale suggested, stepping out of Crowley’s sphere of influence. He could feel the Glamour’s turmoil, and it was making him nauseous. “You can go and see Eddie.” He wanted to keep them together; fighting over relatively petty things like a non-fatal injury would only weaken their defense against Pennywise. 

“Doubt it,” Richie said sadly, kicking a rock by his feet. “His mom’ll kick us out.” 

“Not while I’m there,” Aziraphale replies brightly, smiling invitingly. “Come,” he turned back towards Crowley, who had ended his invisibility sphere and seemed quite unsettled. “I think Eddie will be delighted to see you.” 

~

Thanks to Aziraphale’s influence, Sonia was not present, and the children could go and see Eddie. Wren, Jack, and Katie even went with them, even though Katie and Georgie were too young to really understand what had happened in the Neibolt house, something Crowley was grateful for. 

Aziraphale noticed the Glamour still seemed...off. It reminded him of when he’d first met Crowley in a diner back in his native London. Crowley’s eyes, unfocused, his body taut and interested, lips pursed in a thin line. 

Aziraphale realized it was probably rude to stare. As he looked hopefully towards the coffee dispenser some ways away, he heard what he presumed was the Glamour’s stomach growling. He resisted the urge to dismiss it as Crowley being vulgar because he couldn’t help being hungry, and it’s likely there was a lot of fear in here to tempt him. However, he really couldn’t have the children noticing how hungry Crowley was. Surely that would upset them, considering their confrontation with Pennywise and how that had ended. 

“Could I get you some coffee from the vending machine?” Aziraphale offered kindly, trying not to hint (subtly or unsubtly) that he very much wanted the Glamour to take him up on that offer. 

Instead, Crowley shook his head somberly. “Can’t,” he confessed. “It’s made me nauseous since we first met the Losers. I don’t want…”

“Well,” Aziraphale sniffed primly, “surely that is preferable to hunger.”

Crowley grit his teeth. Instead of snapping, however, he calmly replied, “Aziraphale, please, I…”

Presently, Richie appeared, flanked by Mike,Stan, and Bev. (Ben would’ve been with them, but his cut was being treated.) Wren, Jack, and Katie also emerged, beckoning Aziraphale to the side. The Agent rose from his chair, extending his offer to someone who might appreciate it. “Hot chocolate, anyone?” 

“Yes please!” Katie jumped up and down. “‘N one for Eddie, ‘course. Hot cocoa is nice when you don’t feel well.” 

Aziraphale smiled, neglecting you mention that hospital cocoa probably wouldn’t taste as good as something homemade to spare her innocence. “Yes, of course. Come along.” 

Crowley watched his children go, then turned to the members of the Losers standing in front of him. He was trying to slouch comfortably, arms crossed over his chest, but it was a losing battle. It was getting more difficult to exert energy into appearing normal, especially keeping his teeth human-shaped. “Yes?” He asked, trying for nonchalant but ending up somewhere in the “uneasy” category. 

Richie was running his fingers along the seam of his tee shirt. “Bev told me,” he began, pushing his glasses further up into his nose, radiating nerves like a hot pan radiates heat, “Bev said you...you were…” he hesitated, looking around at the others. 

“Go ahead, Richie,” Bev encouraged, placing a hand on his arm. Mike and Stan nodded, Stan squeezing Richie’s other shoulder before letting go. “It’s okay.”

“We’re with you,” Mike affirmed. 

Richie sighed, looking back at Crowley, his eyes braver and brighter than before. “The Losers have talked it over, and...we want you to eat Eddie’s mom.” 

Crowley scrambled backwards in his chair like a cornered animal, eyes wide. The hospital chair squeaked on the linoleum, making Aziraphale glance over. “What?!” He cried, his heart rate speeding up. Venom tingled on his tongue as he thought of it, how pleasant it would be to eat such a well-fed prey item… He had to fight hard to keep his teeth from fully extending. That wouldn’t exactly endear the Losers to him at the moment. 

“Yeah,” Richie nodded. “Bev said you’re gonna eat her dad, so.” He shrugged. “Why not?” 

“Why…?” Crowley scrambled to regain footing. “Richie Tozier, that…” He glanced at Bev, seeing a flicker of pain and feeling fear well up inside her. “That is...a different story, and…”

“Bullshit!” Richie interrupted him, shouting loudly enough that several people turned around. Crowley made them go on like nothing had happened. “You…! How is it different?! Eddie is afraid of fucking everything! Do you know what that’s like?! No, fuck it, of course you don’t.” Richie scrubbed at his eyes, sniffling. “You eat people because they’re afraid. You don’t know fear.” 

“Richie,” Crowley leaned forward gently, carefully, afraid the boy would hit him. “Richie...I’m ready to believe you. I know Eddie is afraid of germs.” He sighed. “And...I know that fear is related to his mother, to some extent, but…”

“Then fix it,” Richie snarled. “Fix it! Why won’t you help him?!”

“I-“

“Forget it,” Richie snapped. “You’re as worthless as every adult in this fucking town! C’mon, guys,” he turned away, rubbing his eyes. “Told ya it would be a waste of time.” 

Crowley sighed, feeling truly defeated. Richie’s lack of belief cut deeper than he expected, and he was losing the others, too. He could feel it. 

If they didn’t let him in, he couldn’t help them. And he very much wanted to help them. If for nothing else than to ensure that they had peace. 

He got up and started walking out. “C’mon,” he said wearily to his children. “Let’s go.” 

“No.” Aziraphale grabbed his arm, holding on with more strength than Crowley would’ve given him credit for. “We’re not leaving.” 

“Dad’s tired,” Wren glared at Aziraphale.

“We need to go.” Jack frowned. 

“Let’s go now!” Katie whined. 

“It’s okay,” Crowley sighed. “Go sit down by reception. I’ll meet you there.” 

The children, watching Aziraphale warily, made their way towards the reception desk and sat down. Placidly, Crowley turned his attention back to Aziraphale, wordlessly inviting him to go on. He looked terrible, his skin grey, his lips pale, his cheeks sunken in. Still, Aziraphale had to know. 

“Why did you do that?!” Aziraphale hissed, his bright blue eyes as furious as lightning. 

“What?” Crowley asked tiredly, like a child forced to do call and response. 

“That!” Aziraphale pointed back towards the Losers, who were comforting Richie. “It would have been so easy to help them! You could have solved two problems in one fell swoop!” He glared. “I am wondering if you care at all about any children that are not your own, you fowl fiend!”

“Would it?!” Crowley straightened up, baring his teeth at Aziraphale. “You think how I eat is easy?! You think what makes me different from the clown easy?!” He let out a cold laugh, which seemed to fill the air around them with a chill. “If hunting was easy for me, I wouldn’t be about to starve to death! Yes, that’s right,” he went on at Aziraphale’s shocked face. “I’m going to die if I don’t eat soon. Let that sink in for you before you tell me that my life is easy.” He took a deep breath. “I’m so hungry that I can’t even really say that I’m starving. I am empty. I am running out of fuel. I have been for a long time. Missing one cycle is fine, but missing two…” Crowley ran a trembling hand through his hair. 

“Crowley…” Aziraphale started to reach out, but stopped once he realized how upset Crowley was. The Glamour was shaking, and it was almost as if he might fall apart. 

“I’m famished, Aziraphale,” Crowley told him blankly. “I’m cold and empty and exhausted all the time. I’m lucky to get one prey item. Two would be a luxury.” He sighed, wetting his lips. “But...abuse is complicated. The bond between families is incredibly strong.” 

Understanding dawned on Aziraphale. “Eddie loves his mother.” Yes, he could feel it on Eddie when his mother came to pick him up. Perhaps it was a misplaced love, but Sonia was all Eddie had. If he lost his mother… “Oh. Oh I see.” 

“Yeah,” Crowley swayed tiredly. “I let the children come to me. And I let them decide if they want my help or not. Many of them do, but some of them don’t. But no one else can make that choice for them.” He turned sorrowfully towards Richie. “It hurt to tell him no. He’s so scared for Eddie. But that’s a decision Eddie has to make.” The Glamour sighed wearily. “C’mon. I’m exhausted.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said distractedly, turning his back on the Losers. “I’d rather imagine you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! 
> 
> I'm very proud of this chapter, so I hope you all will like it, too! If I could, I would give you all candy for sticking with me this long and always leaving me kind reviews, but alas, I can only bring you a new chapter. I hope it was the treat you wanted!
> 
> For those of you who were spoiled by "A Glamour's Lullaby," here is the backstory for that. But you know how it ends up getting resolved, so perhaps you aren't as anxious as some readers might be. Or maybe you are. Happy endings, after all, don't come without sacrifice.
> 
> I hope you all have had a safe and happy Halloween! I'm sitting here trying not to eat my Halloween candy, as I've been feeling nauseous all day. Boo nausea! I'm tired of being sick!!
> 
> Anyway...hope this lil juicy nugget ties you over until next chapter. See you all very soon!


	24. Strength and Weakness

Weeks passed uneventfully, and Crowley slept through most days and nights, almost hibernating, trying to bank his strength. What remained of it, anyway. Aziraphale made himself scarce, not leaving completely, but almost never in the hotel room. He felt guilty for forcing Crowley’s hand, forcing him to break. He hadn’t known the Glamour’s situation was so dire, and he wondered if Pennywise would sense it.

Wren, Jack, and Katie, feeling lost without their father up and walking around, stayed in the hotel room, its air thick with anxiety and fear. Jack had unplugged the TV in the room after it had turned on by itself, showing a children’s sing-along show about playing in the sewers. They knew their father was good with electronics, and figured this Glamour they were facing was, too.

So it was that on a fine summer day, where it wasn’t boiling hot, that Wren and Jack were playing Go Fish at the foot of the bed, and Katie was lying beside Crowley, who was stretched out on the bed, asleep, as he had been for three days straight now. Katie shifted, resting her head lightly on Crowley’s stomach, absently watching her siblings playing, when she heard a very low, very awful noise.

Wren turned when she heard Katie scrambling to get up. “What’s wrong, Katie?”

“I think daddy’s stomach growled,” Katie said, sounding shocked.

“Wha?” Jack knee-walked over to the side of the bed, watching Crowley sleeping easily, though barely even breathing. No expression in his face, or tension in his body, gave away any sort of clue that he was suffering. “You sure, Katie-girl? He looks peaceful to me.”

As if in response to Jack, a louder growl sounded through the small room. This one Crowley did react to, wincing visibly and turning on his side, away from the children.

For a while, all they could do was stare.

“Damn it,” Jack said quietly. “Why didn’t he tell us?! That can’t be a good sign.”

“How long d’ya think he’s been like that?” Wren asked, hugging herself. “It must be awful…”

Katie ran her hand down Crowley’s arm, biting her lower lip in worry. “I don’t like even being a little hungry,” she murmured. “Poor daddy.”

“We have to do something,” Jack decided, a determined glint in his eye. “This must be really bad if dad was gonna hide it from us.”

“But what can we do?” Wren asked, defeated. “‘S not like we can go and get him food from the diner. He doesn’t eat food.”

“We should tell Bev he needs to eat her dad!” Jack suggested. “Then she could come ‘n live with us!”

“‘S not a good idea,” Katie said quietly. The older children turned to her quizzically. “I talked t’ Georgie after he was bait for Pennywise,” the little girl went on, twisting her rabbit’s ears together as if making a braid, “‘n he said that Pennywise was angry at daddy for hunting.”

Wren nodded. “Pennywise owns Derry. Like dad owns London.”

Katie nodded. “Yeah.”

The children fretted in silence over what to do. Crowley’s stomach growled again, and the weakened Glamour let out a soft whimper, curling up further.

“I don’t like seeing him like this,” Jack muttered as Katie’s eyes filled with tears.

Wren climbed up on the bed and took Katie into her lap, letting the little girl’s tears fall. She understood now that Katie was tied to Crowley in a way that they weren’t. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine that Katie might be able to feel their father’s pain. “I think Katie’s right. Dad can’t hunt here until Pennywise is gone.”

“And I don’t think dad could fight Pennywise alone,” Jack added.

Wren smiled as she got an idea. “He never wanted to. We can get the Losers back together!”

“How do we do that?” Jack asked, getting up from his spot on the floor.

Wren picked up Katie and headed for the door. “I dunno,” she confessed, “but we have to try.” Her eyes strayed to Crowley’s weakened form, lying in the bed. “For dad.”

Katie nodded, sniffling. “For daddy.”

Jack grinned. “Yeah, for dad. We can do it!” He grabbed the room key and led the way out the door. “C’mon! Let’s go to Derry!”

~

Crowley woke up upon feeling another presence in the room. It wasn’t the other Glamour, thank the Mother. He wasn’t exactly strong enough for a fight. 

Crowley sat up, blinking in the light, rubbing his eyes under his sunglasses. Aziraphale was sitting nearby, watching him, his posture tense. The Agent seemed even more nervous to see Crowley awake.

“‘Ziraphale?” Crowley murmured, only half awake. “You came back.”

“I never really left, dear boy,” Aziraphale replied, smiling shyly. “I’ve been nearby, watching over the children in your absence, thinking about what you said.” He frowned, looking at his lap. “I...I feel as though I should apologize for being so hard on you. I had no idea you were in such dire straits.”

Crowley sighed, sitting up slowly at last, feeling the fatigue resting heavily in his bones. After sleeping for a while, he felt a little bit stronger, and his powers had mostly returned, though he feared making use of them for anything but hunting could result in unpleasantness. Being around fear would invigorate him; maybe he’d pay Mr. Marsh a visit. He could feel the sharp teeth in the back of his mouth begin to elongate at that, though, so perhaps a bit of seasoning wasn’t the answer. He sighed. “It’s fine, Aziraphale. It’s not as if I really wanted to admit it in the first place.” He leaned heavily against the headboard. “I’m aware of what I am, you know. I’ve done what I can to…” he gestured aimlessly, “to help instead of harm. I didn’t want the children worrying about me. They’d feel pressured to find a meal for me, and then get distressed when they’d fail.”

“Is there, perhaps, something I can do? To invigorate you in some way?” Aziraphale asked hopefully. “I do wonder...if I was afraid…”

Crowley shook his head. “I don’t want to take advantage, or risk it when I’m starving like this.” He looked around, confused, and a serpentine tongue flickered out from between his lips. “Where are my young?”

“Oh, yes, that’s why I came back. They’re going to Derry.”

“Alone?!” Crowley jumped up, weakness forgotten. “We have to go after them.” He bit his lip, sharing a worried glance with Aziraphale. “Pennywise has been just as inactive as I have. And the Losers are separated.”

“Strength in numbers, but weakness apart,” Aziraphale agreed. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My plan is to rearrange canon a bit again. 
> 
> I'll mostly be going by film canon from here on out, except where I'm adding my own canon. ;)
> 
> Also, since I was sick for the majority of spooky season (and now I'm sick again...RIP), I'm really not ready for Christmas cheer to start yet. Hopefully, you aren't, either, because it's about to get spooky!


	25. Eddie

“Eddie!” 

Eddie looked up as he was leaving the pharmacy, trying to get out of his own head as he saw Wren, Jack, and Katie. “Uh...hi, guys,” he said, shyly hiding his cast from view. “What’s goin on? I haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“We need you to talk to our dad,” Wren said, panting slightly from exertion. “It’s kind of important.” 

“Can we sign your cast, Eddie?” Katie asked. 

Eddie smiled despite himself. “...some other time.” He looked at Jack and Wren. “Why? What’s wrong with your dad?” 

Jack and Wren exchanged worried glances. But it was Katie who spoke up in a quiet voice. “Daddy’s not feeling well. You can help him.” 

“You don’t have to!” Jack hastened to explain. “It’s not an obligation!”

“Has Bev told you anything?” Wren asked, thinking about Richie’s face in the hospital, scrunched up to keep from crying. 

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. I’m not...I don’t know if I…”

“Please?” Katie asked, sniffling as she nuzzled into her rabbit. “Please talk to daddy? I’m scared.”

Eddie bit his lip, bending down slightly to look Katie in the eye. Wren and Jack were tense, about to speak, but he ignored them. He’d always been...not exactly jealous, but wishful, perhaps, of the relationship between Bill and Georgie. He’d always wanted a younger sibling to look after and protect, like Bill did with Georgie. Like Wren and Jack did with Katie. And he felt like he could help her by listening. So he was prepared to do just that. “Katie,” he said gently, “why are you scared?”

Katie rubbed her eyes. “Daddy’s been sleeping so much, and barely breathing. He’s sick. He’s never been sick before.” 

Eddie sighed fondly. “Would it help if I talked to him?” 

Katie nodded. “Think so.” She looked up at him with round, dark eyes. “Will you? Please?”

“Even if I don’t…” Eddie dropped his hand and looked away. 

“Then he can help you!” Katie reached out, grabbing his hand and pulling it back, making Eddie look at her again. “He will. He’s very good at helping.” 

Too good at it, Eddie thought. If a creature like that clown could get to a point where it was relying on outside help, then it’s probably going against its nature in a very bad way. 

Well. Maybe a very good way. 

He was about to respond when a familiar voice boomed behind them. 

“There you are!” 

The children turned to look. Crowley and Aziraphale were standing at the door. The worried lines on the Glamour’s face eased considerably when he set eyes on his children, and Eddie felt a sense of warmth at that realization. He loved them. 

Is that what Bev had seen in him? 

“Daddy!” Katie ran over to give him a hug. Crowley chuckled, lifting her up and spinning her around, making her squeal with laughter. Eddie could see the evidence of the sickness Katie had talked about; he looked pale and thin, even from some distance away, and part of Eddie’s mind recoiled at the thought of germs. But another part of him recognized that this wasn’t a sickness he could catch. 

“Um,” he began, clearing his throat, “hi, Crowley.” 

Crowley stopped, still holding Katie, and turned his gaze towards Eddie. “Hey, Eddie,” he greeted, smiling. “How’s the arm?” 

“Better, I guess,” Eddie shrugged. “I, um...can we talk? Alone?” 

“Of course,” Crowley replied, setting Katie down. “Aziraphale, can you take the children to the arcade?” 

Aziraphale brightened, glad to be of use. “Yes, of course. Come along, children.” 

“Are you as good at crane games as daddy?” Katie asked excitedly. 

“We shall see, won’t we?” Aziraphale replied, smiling fondly. 

Crowley watched them go, smiling himself, and then turned to Eddie. “Well. Where would you like to go?” 

“Honestly?” Eddie thought for a moment. “The Barrens.” 

Crowley chuckled. “That’s a bit more than I can handle right now, I’m afraid.” 

“Then here,” Eddie pointed. “That alleyway has good building lips to sit on.” 

Crowley nodded. “That works.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie smiled. “I have good memories of that alleyway.” 

Crowley smiled. “All right, lead the way.” 

Eddie walked to the alley, thinking he should probably be afraid of a starving Glamour, but that he wasn’t. He didn’t think Crowley could harm him even if he wanted to, which he didn’t think he did. 

They sat down across from each other in the narrow alley. It still felt like too much distance, but it would have to do. They stared at each other for a moment, until Eddie looked down at his hands. 

“Eddie you don’t—”

”Take off—“

Crowley chuckled. “You first.” 

Eddie nodded, straightening his spine. “Take off your glasses.” 

The Glamour startled, visibly taken aback. “Sorry, what?” 

“I wanna see your eyes,” Eddie said. “Can you take them off?” 

Crowley hesitated, then lifted a trembling hand to his face, removing his glasses. Even with eyes downcast, he looked more vulnerable, smaller. 

Human. 

Eddie got up and crossed the alleyway, making Crowley look up. Up close, the Glamour looked sicker still, and without his glasses, Eddie could see the dark circles under his eyes, standing out against his skin like bruises. His eyes were distinctly inhuman, his pupils serpentine slits, the iris glittering gold. 

Eddie reaches out, tilting up Crowley’s chin. “Open your mouth.” 

Crowley sighed, then obeyed. Eddie could see shadows of sharp teeth and the tip of a serpentine tongue. He let go and Crowley relaxed, putting his sunglasses back on again. 

“Can’t you leave them off?” 

He shook his head. “I’ve never been the best at handling my Deadlights. It’ll be worse now.” 

Eddie fidgeted a moment before putting his good hand in his pocket. The bag of pills he almost forgot he was carrying rustled in his other hand. Useless. All a lie. He bit his lip. “Katie...she said you were sick.” 

Crowley winced. “That’s...accurate, I suppose.” 

“Why?” 

The Glamour leaned forward, boneless, onto his knees. “Creatures like me, we’re built to fast. We hibernate for years, emerge, eat, and sleep again. The clown you’re dealing with does this. I don’t.” He sighed. “I don’t complain...I’m happy, really. It’s just…” 

Understanding dawned, and suddenly, Eddie felt sorry for Crowley. “You’re hungry.” 

Crowley’s lip quirked upwards. “Yes. It’s been too long. One cycle, I can survive just fine, but two…” 

“I understand. I feel like that when I’ve been out playing all day and haven’t had lunch, and it’s hours til dinner.” 

Crowley chuckled, leaning back against the wall. “Something like that, yeah.” 

Silence stretched out for miles between them. Eddie looked away. 

“I love my mom,” he said in a small voice. “She takes care of me.”

“I know.” 

Eddie sighed. “She made me afraid of everything, though. Richie was right. She,” he laughed coldly, “she even told me I was better off without friends at all.” He shook his head. 

Crowley hummed. “It’s a very complicated form of abuse. There are layers to every case, of course, but…” 

“I think I wouldn’t be as afraid, without her.” Eddie said. “She’s giving me,” he shook the bag, “gazebos. To play pretend. I feel nauseous just thinking about it. All those years…” 

“Gazebos?” Crowley raised an eyebrow in amusement. 

“Bullshit pills.” 

“Placebo is the word you want.” 

“Placebo. Yeah.” 

Silence. 

“I…” Eddie trembled, sniffling, “I don’t know...what would I do without her? Where would I go?” He began to cry. “I…I don’t…” 

A cool hand drew his attention and he looked up, tears swimming in his eyes. “You don’t have to,” Crowley said gently, eyes seeing him through the sunglasses. “I won’t do anything unless you want me to.” 

“What will happen to me?” Eddie asked. “Do I have to watch…?”

“No. And you’ll come live with me, and I’ll take care of you. I promise.” Crowley replied solemnly. 

“Will she…” Eddie rubbed his eyes stubbornly. “Is she gonna be in pain?” 

Crowley sighed. “She’ll be afraid, because I need her to be. But it’ll be like having a nightmare.” 

“So she’ll...pass away...peacefully?” 

“As if she’d passed in her sleep.” 

“You promise?” 

“I promise.”

Eddie sniffled. “Can I think about it? You can still come...whenever you want to…” 

“I’m dealing with Pennywise first,” Crowley promised. “I won’t do anything until Derry is safe. You have time, Eddie.” 

Eddie smiled, wiping his tears away. “Thanks.” He frowned. “Is it okay if I say no?” 

Crowley nodded sincerely. “Of course it is. I’d rather starve than upset you. Or any other kid.” 

Eddie believed him, even though he couldn’t see his eyes. Crowley managed to make subtle expressions with his entire face. He was surprisingly open for a Glamour. 

“I’ve gotta get home,” Eddie said. 

Crowley nodded, getting up. “Be careful.” 

“I will.” 

Inexplicably, when Eddie got home, there was the exact red pen he needed, in the first spot he looked, so he could write over the “s” in “loser” to exchange it for “lover.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think Katie got a chance to sign Eddie's cast.
> 
> Listen, the "Gazebos" line was my favorite part about that scene in the film. Hands down.


	26. Trouble in Paradise

“BEVVIE!” Alvin Marsh roared, stomping through the narrow hallways that led to the bathroom. “Bevvie! What the hell is this?!” He slammed open the door so hard that it rattled on its hinges, surprising his daughter as she was styling her hair. 

“Dad,” Beverly dropped the hairspray she was holding, the aluminum can crashing down into the sink with an accusatory noise. She backed up against the sink, scrambling for purchase as her lower back hit the ceramic, her eyes zeroing in on the postcard held aloft in her father’s hand. Her heart was beating fast, stuck in her throat, making blood wash to her ears. Her worst fear was her father finding out that she’d been hanging around boys...much less receiving love poetry from them. 

Mr. Marsh’s lips turned up in a sardonic smile, striding up to Beverly and getting in her face. “This,” he said, waving the postcard so that it fluttered in her face, “isn’t your handwriting, Bevvie. Who wrote this?” 

Beverly stood frozen, unable to answer that question. She didn’t really know if Bill or Ben had wrote the poem; she had her guess, but either way, the answer wouldn’t exactly be accepted.

“No,” Alvin sneered, lowering the postcard, his other hand curling into a fist. “I’m going to choose not to think you’re going around whoring behind my back.’ he let the postcard drop, fingers cool and rough against her cheekbone. “But what could make me think that, other than everyone telling me that? After all, our neighbors’ve been tellin me you’ve been hangin around with a group of boys.” His lip curled. “Boys...like a pack of wolves. And wolves, they like to pounce.” He grabbed hold of Beverly’s hair with one hand, yanking up the hem of her dress with the other, his hand climbing up her thigh, making her tremble. “You’re still my girl,” he crooned, “aren’t ya, Bevvie?” He leaned in, nuzzling into her hair. “Still smell like mine, too.”

Beverly inched her hand towards the hairspray can in the sink, her fingers closing around it just as her father’s fingers began to peel back the waistband of her bicycle shorts. In a fit of bravery, she kneed him in the crotch, making him fall back in surprise and pain. When he looked up, she sprayed him in his face with the hairspray, making him scramble backwards, thunking his head against the wall with a deep and permanent sound.

Filled with adrenaline, fear crawling under her skin like mites, Beverly circled her father’s prone form, nervously pulling up her shorts again, covering herself as much as she could. She had to call Crowley. 

Screw the clown. She wanted, no needed, to be free of her father now!

As she turned towards the door, her eyes fell upon the victorious painted face of Pennywise before a hand around her neck made the world fade artfully to black.

~

Crowley had joined his children and Aziraphale in the arcade, taking a less active role in their fun than he usually would. The children could stand to lose a few crane games or get slightly less tickets from skeeball for just one day; he was weary, feeling his age, aware of the timer ticking down, down, towards a long, slow road of starvation and death. Speaking with Bev had invigorated him, the promise of food enough to rejuvenate him, get him through a couple more days. Speaking with Eddie had drained him, and he hated himself for that. 

He hated himself for wanting, craving, desiring Sonia Kaspbrack, and hated himself more for his body’s refusal to move on from being denied. He could forgive himself for being desperately hungry, but only to a point. What good was he if he pouted over keeping a family together?

Even if, after going a full cycle running on empty, he could feel his stomach contract, like all the air had been sucked out of it. Boo hoo, the monster’s hungry.

The Glamour was pulled from his misery from a disturbance in the air. He straightened up from where he was lurking in one of the darker corners of the arcade, serpentine tongue flickering out from between his lips. Derry itself seemed delighted; even the paving stones had begun to sing as the sewers welcomed their master back from the surface. Crowley frowned. He knew what that meant.

Pennywise had taken someone. Taken a prey item back to his lair, storing them away for later.

Someone who was not afraid.

“Richie! Wren! Jack!” 

Crowley’s eyes snapped to the machines towards the entrance of the arcade. Richie and his children had been playing Street Fighter, and Bill had now joined them, Georgie in tow, talking anxiously in low tones. Frowning, he slithered through the shadows to appear nearby, just under the radar of human senses.

“It’s g-got Beverly,” Bill panted.

Richie’s stance and tone changed from cocksure to unsure. “Serious?” He asked.

Bill nodded. “W-we w-went t-to s-see her, b-but…”

“Her door was open,” Georgie continued, bouncing anxiously, “‘n it looked like am’blance people there, takin her daddy away.”

“N-no sign of B-Bev,” Bill finished, horror crystal clear in his eyes.

Richie’s mouth set in a frown, looking from Wren to Jack. Katie was hugging Georgie as the boy shuddered, murmuring about the ‘scary clown’. “We gotta get the others.”

Jack and Wren nodded, determined. “Aziraphale can take us t’get Mike ‘n Stan,” Wren said, glancing over at Aziraphale, who nodded, wringing his hands together. 

“Call Eddie ‘n Ben,” Jack told Richie.

“Better yet,” Crowley’s calm, powerful voice seemed to blanket them all in velvet as he revealed himself to those gathered. Richie, Bill, and Georgie visibly started, though his own children were merely surprised before settling into the new situation. Aziraphale’s eyes were chiding him for being so dramatic, and Crowley has to chuckle quietly to himself. He looked between Richie and Bill. “You two, go and get Eddie, then make your way to the Neibolt house.” He looked at Wren and Jack. “I’ll help you call the others. Tell them Beverly’s been taken and to meet at 29 Neibolt Street.” 

“I w-was r-right, wasn’t I?” Bill asked, looking at Crowley. “I saw the c-clown enter the sewers t-there. It wasn’t a d-dream.” 

Crowley nodded. “Aziraphale and I will help you. Go.” 

Richie and Bill looked at each other and nodded, united under a common cause. They sped off on their bikes, headed for Eddie’s house. 

“Right,” Crowley clasped his hands together, grinning, perhaps a bit manic. “Let’s find a payphone.” 

~

Eddie felt like something was off. 

He’d always had an enviable sense of direction. Stanley liked to tell him he would be a perfect Scout. That wasn’t really what Eddie wanted to do. Eddie liked trains, and soap box racing cars. He had fuzzy memories of his dad showing him pictures of soap box cars and he’d fallen in love with the idea immediately. 

Of course, his mom wasn’t so keen on it. But he was getting off course now. 

He felt...lost, in a very vague sort of way. Well, having your entire world turned upside down when Greta what’s-her-face at the pharmacy counter tells you that your mom’s been giving you gaze—no, that wasn’t it. Plasquitos? Gazeboz? Bullshit pills. That would make you feel like someone’s sat you in your father’s office chair and spun you round until you feel like you might see your lunch for the second time that day. 

But...that wasn’t quite it. 

Eddie needed to find his friends. They’d split up after his injury, and he didn’t want them feeling guilty about it. It wasn’t nearly as bad as what he’d always feared breaking a bone would be like, really. 

He could hear his mom watching TV in the next room, so he slipped out into the hallway, staring at his feet so that he could avoid the floorboards that creaked. 

“Where are you off to, Eddie?” 

Eddie jumped, landing heavily on Creaky Floorboard #14. “Uh, mom. Just, um. Goin out.” 

“Out?” Sonia frowned. “Eddie, you’re far too weak to go out just yet. You’re still getting over your sickness, remember? All that stress breaking a bone did to your delicate heart…” 

“What sickness, mom?” Eddie demanded. “I wanna go see my friends!” 

“No!” Sonia shrieked. “They hurt you! They might as well have been the ones to break your arm! I bet it was that clumsy fat boy…”

“Hey!” 

“Or that rat-faced weasel. What’s his name, the Tozier boy…”

“Mom…!”

“He’s the absolute worst of them. Ugly and stupid and…”

“MOM!” Eddie shouted, feeling tears prickling his eyes. “You...you can’t say that...Richie’s...he…”

“He set your arm wrong, dear,” Sonia replied soothingly, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need them. You have me.” 

Rage boiled up inside Eddie, and she shook away from Sonia’s grip. Surprised, Mrs. Kaspbrack retreated a few steps. “At least Richie doesn’t...doesn’t…” he fumbled in his fanny pack, shaking a bottle of little red pills at her, “feed me these!” He straightened his back, breathing hard through his anger. “You know what these are, mom? They’re gazebos.” He threw the pill bottle on the ground, watching his mom wince as the pills spilled onto the floor. “They’re bullshit!” 

“Eddie…” Sonia began, reaching out for her son. “Please. Don’t go.” 

Eddie looked up at her, eyes swimming with tears. “No, mom,” he said. “Let me go.” 

Sonia’s eyes filled with rage. “Eddie! You’ll regret this!” She began to advance, but Eddie was quicker and pushed past her, running out of the house, listening to her screaming desperately after him. Tears ran down his cheeks. 

But he wasn’t confused about the direction his life was headed anymore. 

He already knew what he had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive any typos...my laptop keyboard has several keys that are sticking...including my shift key.
> 
> A nice long chapter to welcome the return of this series! We're almost there, folks!
> 
> (I've learned that, even in context, the Pennywise dancing scene is ALWAYS funny.)


	27. Down the Well

But that can wait. If Crowley senses a new determination (or a new fear) in Eddie, he doesn’t comment on it, which sets Eddie at ease. Besides, he’s got to concentrate. They’ve got a score to settle with a certain clown. 

Bill, for one, is upset that the two youngest of their group are allowed to come along. “You s-shouldn’t b-be here, G-Georgie,” he orders, “it’s t-too dangerous.” If he’s stuttering less than usual, no one comments on it. Least of all the two non-human entities who probably count as adults, even though Mike, for one, is willing to bet they’re much older than any adult he’s ever known. 

“I’ve thought of that,” Crowley says wearily, “there’s nowhere else I could send them that would be safer. And Katie wanted to come along.” 

Mike also thinks this is a bad idea and poor reasoning on the Glamour’s part, and he proudly says so. But to his frustration, everyone seems to ignore his logic. As he follows the others into the house, Crowley slides in next to him. 

“I appreciate your worry. Sorry I had to do that.” 

Mike scowls. “This really isn’t a good idea.” 

“Maybe not,” Crowley rolls his shoulders in a way that suggests he either has too many bones or not enough. “But it’s never a good idea to underestimate someone because of their age.” 

Mike thinks about their ragtag little group, walking into a monster’s lair to save their friend, effectively alone. He nods solemnly, understanding everything. “Thanks for the apology. I get it now.” 

“Good.” Crowley smiles, and it is kind, despite the shadows of sharp teeth Mike can see hiding between his lips. 

~

Armed with flashlights, the Losers enter the Neibolt house. Eddie is leading the way, and he’s holding the brightest flashlight; a big, industrial-strength hunk of plastic and metal from Mike’s grandpa’s farm. Mike also has the bolt gun he uses on the sheep, sitting clipped to his belt loop like a Wild West gunslinger. The rest of them only have their wits about them, but it’s enough. Stanley, the most reluctant to enter the Neibolt house, had been reassured by Georgie and Katie each taking a hold of his hands. Bravery is contagious, after all.

Crowley and Aziraphale bring up the rear of the group, though they both have their senses open in case of danger. Crowley has affected an air of cool, hands in his pockets, bangs smooth and tucked against his forehead, glasses firmly over his eyes even in the low light, but Aziraphale can feel how tightly wound the creature is, and he keeps scenting the area with his tongue. 

Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley’s arm, making the creature jump. “Sorry,” the Agent apologized, “I didn’t mean to startle you, but you seem terribly wound up.”

Crowley nodded once, tightly. “It’s fear. I can smell it. But I can smell the clown, its influence.” He looked to Aziraphale, face drawn in the dim light. “Whatever it is, I don’t like it.”

Aziraphale nodded, making sure to strengthen his guard over the gathered children. He didn’t like Crowley’s tone. The creature sounded uncertain and afraid, more than he ever had before. That could only mean something bad. Worse than bad.

Something truly awful.

~

Between Eddie’s sense of direction and Bill’s memory of the location of the well he’d seen, the group makes their way there in record time. The only problem now is, of course, how to get down the well.

“Hey, Eddie,” Richie tries to joke to lighten the mood, “got a quarter?”

“I’m not making a wish in that fuckin thing,” Eddie replied.

“Beverly!” Ben shouted down into the well. The children waited, but the only thing that followed Ben’s call was his echo. He goes to call again, but Wren puts a hand on his arm.

“Don’t,” she said gently, shaking her head. “It won’t do any good.”

“How do we get down there?” Jack asked, leaning over the side of the well, seeing only darkness.

“Careful!” Eddie snarled. “You’ll fall!”

“Nah.” But Jack backed away from the edge all the same.

Crowley slid into the shadows against the wall, his eyes on Stantley. The poor boy is sweating fear, essentially making him a shining beacon that might as well be a flashing neon sign on an all night buffet. It helps that Stantley’s fear is not of him, but he is afraid of this situation and the clown itself, which isn’t very good for them right now.

Aziraphale grunts beside him, lowering himself down onto a crate that miraculously becomes clean and brand new as he does so. A frivolous use of magic, but Crowley highly doubts anyone is keeping score. “How are you feeling, dear boy?”

Crowley sighs heavily, resting the entirety of his weight against the stone wall. For a moment, the only sounds are the children rustling about as they look for something suitable to help them get down into the well. Bill finds a few yards of thick rope, and Mike helps them tie it to a metal hook swinging ominously above the well’s pit. Crowley is about to answer Aziraphale when he tastes something...odd.

The Glamour scents the air with his tongue again, sorting out the distracting smell of fear from Stanley. It’s what he smelled before; fear and anger and loathing all masked by Pennywise’s power. “He’s taken control of someone,” Crowley murmurs.

“What?” Aziraphale asked. “Who?”

But Crowley doesn’t answer, pushing himself off the wall with a grunt. “Go and make sure the children find a way into the well,” he said distractedly. “I’ll keep watch.” His eyes glow behind his sunglasses, and Aziraphale nods, helping Wren and Bill with their siblings. Mike is the last one to descend the rope, as he was holding his flashlight before a small hole in the corner of the well’s stone wall. It looks like as good an entrance as any; more trustworthy than the abyss below them, anyway. Aziraphale holds the rope steady, then lets go once he has it, stepping back to let him descend safely. Crowley bristles, and all of a sudden…

“RRAUGH!” Henry Bowers kicks down the door and flies down the steps. Crowley shifts into a serpent, hoping to deter him, but Henry grabs the snake out of the air, flinging him against the stone wall as hard as he can. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale hurries to tend to the snake, whose red belly is up, his narrow head bleeding from a wound to his skull. 

“Mike!” The children cry up anxiously, powerless to help their friend as Henry pulls Mike away from the rope, his eyes wild and his face covered in blood. He doesn’t look human anymore, eyes lost and wild as he lauds over the children with a wheezing breath. When he turns on Mike, Aziraphale stands up, ready to step in if he’s needed. He can tell, though, that Mike is strong, and remarkably unafraid, given the circumstances. Behind him, the serpent stirs with a slurred hiss that’s more of a groan, and he feels the slight frame of the snake climb up his leg.

“You,” Henry turns on Mike. “You didn’t listen to me, didja? I told you your kind weren’t welcome in Derry. Look what’s happened to your parents, and what’s gonna happen to you,” he grinned manically, pinning Mike to the ground. “You’re gonna pay, filthy ni--”

At that, Mike rallies, kicking Henry in the stomach and sending him flying back against the well’s wall. Mike doesn’t let him recover, charging forward like a bull and sending him flying over the edge of the well.

Henry’s screams echo off the walls of the well.

“Mike?” Eddie, Bill, and Richie all say at once. The Losers and the Campsite Kids all breathe a sigh of relief when Mike’s head appears over the side of the well. They cheer as Mike climbs down.

“Where’s daddy and angel?” Katie asks, tugging on Mike’s shirt.

“Comin, I think,” Mike replies.

“C’mon, Katie-girl,” Jack reassures her, taking her hand. “Dad’s gonna be okay, right Wren?”

“Yup,” Wren smiled, though her face grew serious as she looked behind her, back to the outside of the well.

Crowley popped back into his human form, groaning quietly, one hand rubbing the injury on his head and the other clutching his ribs. “Damn it, that boy was strong…”

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale fussed, his fingers lightly dancing along the edge of Crowley’s tee shirt. “He broke a few ribs! Let me just…” 

Crowley sighed, leaning heavily into Aziraphale as the pain bled away. “Thanks, angel.”

“Not a problem, dear boy,” Aziraphale replied, running a hand through Crowley’s hair to fix the cut on his head and dispel any lingering dizziness from the concussion he’d no doubt sustained. “Now, let’s go and…”

“I could’ve saved him,” Crowley hugged himself.

“What do you mean? All of the children are…”

“No, I…” Crowley sighed in frustration, looking away. “The bully. Henry. I should’ve sought him out, I could’ve helped him.” He shivered in the draft of the open room. “He was so afraid...of his father, of other people, of being a disappointment…” He looked away, ashamed. “He was barely any older than Wren, but…once Pennywise enthralls someone, I can’t intervene.”

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly until the Glamour looked up. “You can’t save everyone, dear boy. Henry chose to open himself to Pennywise, just as your children open themselves to you.” The Agent smiled sadly. “It is their choice, my dear. And Henry made his. Now,” he smiled, “shall we go, as Richie might say, lick some serious butt?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, but fondly. “Kick, Aziraphale. It’s ‘kick’ butt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Henry was about to say a Not Very Nice Word...
> 
> I'm gonna say again that I absolutely DO NOT in any way, shape, or form agree with Henry Bowers' views, or what his character did in the story. 
> 
> However, i stand by Crowley's viewpoint. Henry is still just a kid. A damaged kid, warped by his father, but also a very scared kid. He's not a saint, and certainly not innocent, but, perhaps, had the circumstances been different, Henry could've had a better life.
> 
> Anyway. On to the next!


	28. Falling Down

Henry woke up alone, cold, and hurting. His mind was racing, thoughts running through his head that he never thought he could have, a low thrum of anger and fear burning him alive from the inside out. 

There was the soft, slick sound of rhythmic dripping and a distinct scent of garbage. He was in the sewers. 

Henry had been in the sewers before, usually with Patrick. His friend had disappeared while they looked for his knife and the fat boy. He rubbed his aching head, wondering what had become of his friend. 

A low hum reverberated like a heartbeat or a breath down the tunnels. It was traveling as fast as a train and sounded just as powerful, but Henry felt frozen in place, realizing how alone he felt and how frightened he was, like everything and everyone he’d ever feared in his life was coming to haunt him. 

The sound of scuttling joined the humming. It reminded Henry of the sound of crab legs, like the one good memory he had of his dad, now tinged by fear. Something big and hairy and glowing bright orange crawled over him, and Henry stared into the bright light, letting it wash over him. 

The whispers told him what he had to do next, which reassured him. He was going to go someplace nice, where he’d be fed and clothed. All he had to do was confess to the murders. Yes. So easy. He’d done a few of them, after all. The men wouldn’t need anything more. 

He’d live a long and happy life. He just had to obey. 

Henry woke up in the bright sunshine, feeling both calm and afraid all at once. When he turned to look around, he caught sight of his hair. 

It was pure white. 

Henry let out a deep breath and fell back against the tree behind him weakly, just waiting for the pain to end. 

He almost wished the fucking clown had just taken him instead. 

~ 

“Damn it,” Eddie groaned, lowering the flashlight. “I feel like we’re going in circles. This is hopeless.”

“Nah, c’mon!” Richie clapped Eddie on the shoulder. “Don’t give up yet!” He posed like an adventurer in a comic book, pointing the way forward with an outstretched arm. “Onward to adventure!”

“E-Eddie…” Bill began, “c’m-mon…”

“I need a map,” Eddie sighed, looking around at the gathered Losers and Campsite Kids. “Anyone got one?”

“Dad can see through walls,” Jack suggested. “Maybe he knows what to look for?”

Eddie stood on tiptoe to look over Mike’s shoulder. “Crowley?”

The Glamour glanced up, tilting his head. “Mmm?”

“I can’t see if we’re goin the right way.” Eddie said. “Can you help?”

“Sure,” Crowley loped forward, ignoring Aziraphale’s pleas to conserve his energy. “Any idea what we’re lookin for?” 

“This thing’s got a lair,” Mike said. “It’s gotta have a den of some sort.”

“Like a big, open area?” Ben asked, thinking of gerbil tunnels.

“Nah, like a…” Mike hummed. “Enclosed space. Like a nest.”

“Dad,” Wren took his hand, squeezing it, “be careful.”

Crowley looked at his daughter, smiling, and roped her in close for a hug. “I will. Promise.” He pulled away, then, before she could hear his internal systems slightly freaking out over the invasive healing magic swirling around his ribs. Aziraphale’s healing worked...but just barely. If he were any better of a Glamour, the flowing liquid magic could’ve put out his light forever.

Lucky thing that he walked pretty close to what Maturin considered Good. It just made him a little queasy. Luckily, he’d turned away fast enough to hide the grimace from her. The last thing he needed was her to be afraid. Eddie was already doubting, and Stan was still fearful.

“Take my hand,” the Glamour instructed, standing before Eddie. “Everyone else, close your eyes and turn away.’

~

Stan, Katie, and Georgie were a few steps behind the main group, momentarily forgotten by the distracted Glamour and his accompanying Agent. The older boy was amazed that the two youngest members of their group seemed fairly unafraid of the sewers. Katie was even swishing her dress, swinging Georgie’s hand in her own, their singing voices bouncing off the sewer pipes, making it sound like many voices were joining in.

“London bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. London bridge is falling down, my fair lady!”

The voices of the others were getting more distant, which made Stanley nervous. He shone his flashlight at every shadow, every rat that scuttled away, managed to barely stifle a scream when Georgie jumped to make a big splash, nearly getting Katie all wet, their giggling echoing louder in his ears.

“Iron bars will bend and break, bend and break, bend and break. Iron bars will bend and break, my fair lady!”

That...that wasn’t Katie’s voice.

Stanley grabbed Katie and Georgie’s hands, tugging them in close by his side. “You heard that, didn’t you?” He asked, breathing hard, shining his light everywhere. There were tunnels on all sides. Which one was the one the Losers had gone down? He couldn’t hear them anymore.

Georgie looked at Katie and nodded. “You didn’t sing that one.”

Katie shook her head, clutching her rabbit to her chest. She knew Georgie was afraid bbecause he was shaking beside her, and she knew Stantley was afraid because she could hear his heart beating fast. And she knew she should be afraid...except that she could feel her daddy’s heart shining bright nearby. She knew he would come get her, even if she was afraid.

Stanley shone his light over to one of the pipes. There was a woman with a warped face and no pupils staring out at them. 

Katie gasped, and Stanley screamed, the woman charging them clumsily, moving in a disjointed manner. Her spindly fingers grabbed Stanley, her mouth opening to reveal big, scary teeth.

The little girl felt tears prickling her eyes. This....this was that thing that she’d seen, the creature her daddy had told her to fear. She was facing it, seeing it taking a hold of Stanley.

“Stan!” Katie grabbed his leg. “Stan! Please!” She didn’t know how to tell him it wasn’t real, none of it was real, he could make the lady go away if he wanted, he just had to be strong enough to make her go.

She turned to Georgie. “Help me!” But her friend was petrified with fear, frozen to the spot, unable to help him.

Katie planted her feet, determined. She turned to face the thing. “I’m not afraid of you!” She screamed.

~

The lights were bright and cold, but they had an edge to them that felt peaceful and warm. Eddie wasn’t quite aware of staring into the light, only that it was wrapping around him, holding him steady. He could feel it guiding him away from something, so he let it drag him, thoughts and feelings running over his skin like warm bath water. He blinked, and he could see as clear as day the map Bill had showed him of the sewers his dad had built. He could see the path to the room they needed to go.

He could hear voices around him, though it sounded like they were under water. They sounded distressed, and it made him want to back away from the light. It wasn;t because he was scared, but...he needed to be able to hear those voices…

Eddie dropped Crowley’s hand and the Glamour stumbled back, panting, closing his eyes and fumbling with his sunglasses. Jack and Wren rushed forward, embracing their father, the creature’s eyes still glowing faintly, like a flickering candle, behind the dark glasses.

“Stan!” Mike shouted.

“Stan!” Richie called.

“S-Stan!” Bill cupped his hands over his mouth.

“Stanley!” Ben cried.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale looked around, frantic. “The little ones.” Horrified blue eyes met Crowley’s. “Georgie and Katie. Where did they go?”

“I’m not afraid of you!” A cry echoed from the depths of the sewer tunnels.

Crowley hissed, and transformed in a second, his form as large as a sizeale anaconda. “Thisss way,” he hissed at Wren and Jack. “Follow me.” His serpentine body carved a way through the muck and grime, his eyes faintly glowing as he led the way. It wasn’t far; he could smell the fear. The others were on his tail, but all he could think of was the little ones.

By Gan, he hoped he wasn’t too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O cliffhanger!
> 
> And we see the difference between Crowley's Deadlights and Pennywise's.
> 
> I think we can forgive Crowley and Aziraphale for being overwhelmed while in Pennywise's lair. Ever tried to find the bathroom at your rich friend's house? What a nightmare.


	29. Bend and Break

The woman shifted, her form’s bone cracking noisily as she turned her attention to Katie. The little girl stood firm and strong, defiantly daring her to try something. Katie’s eyes burned like fire, almost glowing in the gloom.

The creature dropped Stan, who scrambled to Georgie, standing in front of the younger boy and brandishing his flashlight. He seemed unharmed for the most part, just a few cuts where the creature had held him.

The evil Glamour shifted back into the clown, grinning. “You,” it said in its strange, carnie voice, “you’re the little brat that follows the snake.” Pennywise slithered over until he loomed over the girl, staring down at her with bright golden eyes. “He’ll eat you,” he said. “The one you call your ‘daddy’,” he circled her, saying in a mocking tone, “‘daddy, help me’, ‘daddy, save me’.” It laughed. “Pathetic.”

“Daddy is good,” Katie frowned, refusing to let the clown out of her sight. “He would never hurt me! You’re a liar!”

The clown tilted its head, then screeched out a laugh. “I’m a Glamour!” He cried, triumphant, leaning bonelessly forward, hands on his hips. He punctuated each of his words by poking a finger at her chest. “It’s. What. We. Do.”

“Get away from them, Pennywise.”

The clown grumbled, rising up. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the sneaky little snake. I see you’ve brought me a buffet.” Pennywise laughed.

Crowley, back in his human form now, hissed, baring his fangs. “Get out of here, Pennywise. Katie is mine.”

A strange noise gurgled in the back of the clown’s throat as it lowered itself down, sniffing around Katie while the little girl stood motionless before it. The Glamour huffed, drawing back as if it had smelled something disgusting before turning his eyes back to Crowley. “Take them,” it snarled. “Eat them yourself!” It strode over towards Crowley, long fingers stroking Crowley’s cheek. “You’re not like them,” it went on, soothingly, pouting at Crowley. “Why pretend to have morals? You aren’t built for that.”

Aziraphale drew the children back, holding his breath. He was ready to take the children from here if that was what it took...though he found himself trusting Crowley. Inexplicably, this creature was different...and wasn’t what Pennywise was saying.

But was Crowley’s belief in himself strong enough to withstand the Glamour’s taunting?

Pennywise crooned, running his hands through Crowley’s hair. “Why go hungry, serpent?” He asked. “Why spend a moment, scared that you’ll starve to death?” The clown’s eyes flashed, and Crowley gasped, knees buckling. The damned clown was forcing him to feel the pain from his injuries, the weakness thrumming through his body, the aching emptiness plaguing his barren stomach, the taste of the fear in the children present. 

“Join me,” Pennywise purred, nearly whispering in Crowley’s ear. “Join me, and we can share this feast. You and I, two Glamours, ruling our worlds together. Nothing will stand in our way.” the clown leaned back, grinning with all of his teeth. “Whaddya say?”

Crowley straightened his back, gesturing. Katie ran to him, burying her face in his stomach. Slowly, crowley wrapped his arms around her. Pennywise smirked.

The weakened Glamour wet his lips, making eye contact with Pennywise, his golden eyes sharp and clear behind his glasses. “Go to hell,” he hissed.

All at once, the children cheered. Wren and Jack tackled him happily, Katie and Georgie climbed into his arms, Richie whopped, clapping him on the back, Eddie hugged him from behind, while Mike, Ben, and Stanley regrouped with relief. Bill went to Georgie, hugging him tightly.

And Aziraphale spread his wings and glowed.

Pennywise shouted in frustration and fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley said what we're all thinking. (And what a fair few of you have expressed in the comments.) Stick it to 'em, Crowley!


	30. My Heart Burns There, Too

To call the creature a “spider” wouldn’t exactly be accurate. Yes, the form and general feel the body adapted would remind one of a spider, were they pressed to identify it as any sort of animal at all, but it wasn’t really a spider, not really. That was just the closest thing the human mind could conjure up.

Anyway, the Glamour, sitting comfortably in his true form, scuttled his way into his den, dropping the stunned Beverly onto the cool ground, though not from any great height. He didn’t want to bruise his meal, after all. That wouldn’t do.

The spider transformed back into the form of the clown and gleefully jumped up and down, giggling to itself. He was convinced that the Losers would see the mess in Beverly’s bathroom and not interfere. Surely, if they knew what was good for them, they’d stay away. He’d never been challenged in his reign on the Earth. Not once. And no uppity rival Glamour or Turtle-meat was going to stop him now!

~

Beverly awoke to darkness all around. She felt weak, and her neck hurt, all the adrenaline in her body wiped out from the argument with her father. 

BBeverly stood up slowly, her knees wobbling, propping herself up against a pipe as she looked around. It smelled like...well…she knew she was in the sewers. She could guess, judging from what she remembered about Bill showing the Losers the map of them. But it didn’t...smell like a sewer.

It smelled like...popcorn, and cotton candy, and hot dogs, and french fries, and caramel apples.

In front of her, a pile of belongings loomed far above her head. Dolls, toys, sports equipment, jewelry, bicycles, all of it things you would find in the possession of children while they went about their daily lives. And as Beverly looked around, she saw it.

There was an area of the sewer where the ceiling was high and long, tapered like a silo. Another pile of assorted belongings was stacked up to the ceiling like the one before her, only...only there were bodies, hundreds of bodies, in various states of decay. Some were headless or missing arms or legs. Some looked freshly killed. All of them were floating, orbiting the pile like asteroids around a planet.

Beverly felt sick to her stomach. This was what the clown was capable of, and it was horrifying. She had to get out of here, warn the others. She had to get Crowley. He could finish off her dad, and then help them fight this monster. She didn’t care anymore. She wanted her childhood back.

Bev tripped over a doll, falling back into the sewer water and making a loud splash. 

“Mama,” the doll said.

Beverly got up, feeling desperately against the wall. Her dad was a janitor and before that, he’d been a utilities workman, so she knew that there were usually all kinds of back doors and tunnels in places like this, so workers could get in and out pretty easily. 

“Beverly,” taunted a mechanical voice that sounded something like the doll she’d tripped over.

Bev ignored it, trying to fiddle with the locks on the wall that seemed to keep moving around whenever she tried to grab them, making the same voice snicker. The sound of a jack-in-the-box being wound up distracted her, and she turned around to see the stage in front of her open up. She’d been so distracted by the floating children, it had almost escaped her notice.

There was Pennywise, dancing, just like his advertisement said. Beverly’s eyes darted about, looking for an exit. She could see a larger sewer pipe from her spot against the wall, so she made a run for it.

But Pennywise was faster, leaping off of the stage, giggling madly as he held her up. Beverly punched and kicked, but though she was connecting with the creature, it didn’t seem to do any good. Pennywise was mocking her, and Bev spit in his face. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said, looking the creature straight in the eye.

Pennywise frowned, pulling her close and sniffing her, his bells rattling in frustration as he shook his head like a wet dog. “You will be,” he snarled.

The clown’s face turned static, and then began to split in two like a snake egg, parting away from his lips and revealing a gaping maw. 

Beverly felt the cold, orange light wash over her, taking her away from rational thought. The last thing she registered consciously was the pressure around her neck fading, and then all was darkness once again.

~

“After him!” Bill rallied the group, raising his flashlight in the air as a sort of battle cry, leaving Georgie’s side and running down after the clown. 

“Wait--” Crowley began, realizing it was a lost cause once even his children joined the charge. Though Wren, Jack, and Katie had hesitated, Crowley waved them forward. He turned to look at Aziraphale, who nodded in determination, tucking his wings away. 

Crowley smiled. “Once more into the fray, angel,” he joked, taking off after the children with inelegant long strides.

“Bill!” Eddie called, not looking where he was going as his friend’s back retreated from view. “Bill! Wait!” he tripped, falling onto his hands and knees in the sludge, dropping his flashlight.

“Eddie, get outta there,” Richie cautioned. “That’s graywater.”

Eddie didn’t seem to notice his earlier words being thrown back at him. “My flashlight...I lost it in…” But all of his fumbling brought...something...up to the surface.

The boys shrieked, turning tail and running the other way, into the mouth of the den. Katie and Georgie, who had fallen behind in the main charge, turned around to wait for Crowley and Aziraphale.

“C’mon, daddy!” Katie said impatiently.

“Where’d Billy go?” Georgie asked, letting go of Katie hand and wandering into the den.

“Careful, Georgie!” Aziraphale called, trudging after him. Crowley scooped Katie up, carrying her the rest of the way into the den.

“Beverly!”

“Quick,” Ben gestured to Mike, who was the strongest. “Can you help me get ‘er down?”

“I’ll try,” Mike said, helping lift Ben up into the air. Richie ran over to help Ben get Beverly down.

Eddie spotted the floating bodies, and he felt his heart enter his throat. “Shit. Is that…?”

“The other kids,” Stan murmured, brushing his shoulder against Eddie’s. “Floating.” 

“Bev!” Ben cried. The Losers had successfully gotten her down, and Eddie and Stan ran over, looking around at their friend as Ben shook Beverly. “Wake up!” His eyes, wild, fell on Crowley. “Why won’t she wake up?!”

Crowley bit his lip, setting Katie down, though the little girl wouldn’t leave his side. The Glamour stepped forward, parting the gathered group of kids. He could feel the electricity coming off of Beverly’s lifeless form like waves. “She saw Pennywise’s Deadlights,” Crowley said gravely.

“The lights,” Wren explained. “They’re like a Glamour’s heart.”

“You’re not supposed t’look at ‘em,” Jack looked at Wren. “Think you ‘n I have, though. In short bursts.”

‘I saw the Deadlights,” Eddie piped up. “I don’t look like her.”

“You saw mine, Eddie,” Crowley explained, waving his hand in front of Beverly’s eyes. Nothing, not even his magic, could possibly bring her back. He’d failed them. “I’m sorry, but...he means to eat her…”

“I’m not giving up!” Ben declared, a fire in his eyes. He leaned forward and connected his lips to Bev’s. Quiet gasps and anxiety washed over the group, and Ben pulled away. They all waited.

Beverly gasped, taking a step back. Her eyes met Ben’s and Ben’s eyes met hers. She smiled.

“January embers,” she murmured, touching her lips.

Ben blushed. “My heart burns there, too.”

Beverly dove into Ben’s arms, and Richie, triumphant, pulled them both in, uniting them all in a joyful hug. 

“What was that about?” Aziraphale asked. “I thought nothing could bring her back from the Lights.”

Crowley smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Never underestimate the power of love, angel,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not for the life of me find out what Pennywise says to Beverly before he opens the stage, so uh...have my rendition of that scene.
> 
> I rush action sequences bcs I'm bbad at fight scenes. Sorry. Also it's late af. Why am I writing this at bedtime?!
> 
> I welcome new and old readers! Your comments are very helpful!


	31. Bargaining

“Wait,” Richie said suddenly, interrupting the joy of their reunion. “What happened to Bill?” 

“Yeah, and where’s Georgie?” Wren asked, seeking Katie’s hand and holding it fast. 

“Bill!” Richie called. That started a chorus as the children ran towards the piles of toys, the sewers snelling of pleasant things that seemed to mask an unpleasantness. Like putting an air freshener in a garbage dump. 

Crowley went to move quickly to follow them, but he winced, collapsing in pain. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale, startled by the sudden ill health of his...well, were they friends? He supposed so. He supposed that was why his chest tightened with anxiety when he saw Crowley fall. He rushed to the Glamour’s side and helped him stand. “Are you all right?” 

“Ngk,” Crowley mumbled, legs shaking as Aziraphale helped him stand. “Shifting took a lot outta me, is all. And whatever Pennywise did to me…” he shuddered. “I know he was trying to make me afraid, make me as much of a coward as he is.” 

Aziraphale nodded, wincing in sympathy. It probably wasn’t pleasant to have a more powerful predator looming over you and trying to eat you...even if that predator was your own species. In fact, he suspected that made it more unpleasant. “Will you be all right?” 

Crowley nodded. “Jus’ need to get my bearings. I’ll be all right in a tic.” 

Aziraphale still supported Crowley’s slight weight, walking them both forward to follow the children. “It’s such a grim place,” he observed cooly. “The feel of it...stifling, distressing. Hopeless.” His eyes widened. “Like the missing posters I saw. I knew he was the source of the misery, the influence you say your kind has on their territories, I just never thought…” He shivered. “This is the heart of him. I can feel it.” 

“I don’t like it either,” Crowley admitted. “I always got a bit of a headache in Derry, especially after he found out I was here. I’m not wanted here, I’m not supposed to interfere.” He hid his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder, gasping as if he’d been pricked with a needle. “It’s worse now.”

Aziraphale made a soothing noise. “I’ll help you get through. So will your children. You won’t die here, Crowley.” His voice became hard, the voice of a warrior, and Crowley remembered that was the point of Maturin’s Agents. They were soldiers. “I’ll make sure of it.” 

Crowley felt his face grow hot and warm, but couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

~

“G-Georgie…?” Bill walked carefully past the mounds of toys. He knew Georgie had come this way, had seen the boy amongst the sewer pipes. If Georgie had been gotten by the monster now, after surviving once...well, he’d never forgive himself.

“Billy?” the sound was plaintive and small. Bill turned towards the voice and…

Pennywise, his eyes wild, was crouched over Georgie, holding him in something that looked like a parody of an embrace. Georgie was trembling, his brown hair damp, shaking in his raincoat. 

“Georgie…” Bill looked frantically for a weapon, startled when his foot kicked a metal bar. Without taking his eyes off the clown, he stooped to pick it up, holding it out in front of Pennywise. “L-let him g-go,” Bill warned, trying to sound threatening through his fear. “T-take me ins-stead.”

“Billy!” Georgie cried, tears trailing down his cheeks.

Footsteps sounded behind Bill; the cavalry arriving at last. But were they too late? Pennywise grinned, looking around hungrily at the gathered children. “What a touching moment,’ he crooned. “Argh. It makes me want to vomit!” He shook his head rapidly, a growl in his throat. “Nothing ruins my appetite more than heroic self-sacrifice,” He turned to Bill, showing off more of his strange, pointed teeth, dripping with drool. 

Bill, shaking, stepped forward. “Let him g-go,” he stammered, a renewed fire in his eyes.

Pennywise cast his eyes around the gathered children until he spotted the weakened Crowley being led by Aziraphale. Ha! So the snake was already dying. Perfect! He could no longer raise a finger to protect the children! And that Turtle-Meat coward would no doubt blame him for failing to save them, and he would kill Crowley and he, Pennywise, would go to sleep with a full belly! Ha!

“No,” Pennywise mocked, “I don’t think I will.” Gleefully, he giggled, trying to keep an eye on all the children at once. “Your brainwashed serpent is too weak to save you! He stole Georgie from me, but,” Pennywise cackled, “he can’t do anything now. None of you can!” 

Aziraphale turned to Crowley in alarm. “Oh dear, he’s going to eat that poor boy! I should step in, I…!”

“Hold the phone, Aziraphale,” Crowley said quietly. “Watch.”

“We’re not going to let you eat Georgie!” Bev stepped forward, also armed with a rusted pipe. 

Pennywise grinned a demonic grin. “How ‘bout a trade?” He held out a hand to Bill. “C’mon. I’ll take you instead.”

“Don’t do it, Bill!” Eddie cried. “It’s a trap!”

A whole chorus telling Bill not to do it erupted from the many throats of the children, but Bill nonetheless dropped his weapon. Immediately, Pennywise grabbed him, and held both Denbrough boys in a headlock, to the startled cries of the gathered children.

“Fuck!” Jack hissed, turning to his siblings. “This isn’t going well. Why won’t dad help?”

“Daddy’s dying,” Katie sniffled, holding onto her rabbit.

“Now?” Wren hastily looked between Crowley and her niece. “Katie...are you sure?”

Katie nodded. “I could tell when he held me. Daddy needs help. He can’t help us.”

Jack looked nervously at Wren. “Whaddo we do?”

Wren looked around until she spotted a hockey stick at the base of the pile of toys behind Jack. “We fight,” she said, bending down to get it. “For the Losers.” She sighed sadly. “For dad.”

Jack found a golf club and held it firm in his grip. “Yeah. For dad.”

“Boo hoo,” Pennywise mocked. “Little orphans without a home, putting trust in the unknown.” He sneered, beginning to drag Bill and Georgie away. “You’ve no idea what the one you call your father really is. What I really am!” He cackled. “I am the devourer of worlds, and of children! I’ll feast on your flesh as I feed on your fear!” Then, the creature seemed to get an idea. “Or…! I’ll take them, and only them. The prey that was denied me, and payment for your safety. And then I’ll go to sleep. You’ll lead long and happy lives until death returns you to the weeds!”

“I’m s-so s-sorry, Georgie,” Bill said, looking over at his brother. “I’m s-sorry, guys.” His eyes swept across his friends’ faces. “Leave. It’s-s my f-fault. S-sorry.”

“S-sorry,” chortled the creature.

“Guys…” Bev looked at the others in determination. “We can’t!”

“We’re with you,” Wren nodded, looking at Jack. “We’ll fight for you. For Derry.”

Stan looked doubtful, but the others looked worried. Richie walked to the front. “I told you, Bill,” he began hesitantly, “I fucking told you. I don’t wanna die.”

Mike and Ben stared helplessly. Bev thought she might explode with rage. Eddie, however, was in awe. He had looked into Crowley’s Deadlights, had seen something of Richie’s nature that was only really understood through seeing his fear. And he had faith.

“It’s your fault,” Richie went on. But as he continued to speak, the tremble left his voice. “You punched me in the face, you made me walk through shitty water! You brought me to a fuckin crackhead house.” He now sounded more confident, like a leader in his own right, brave and strong. “And now,” he reached into the pile of toys, grabbing a baseball bat. “I’m gonna have to kill this fuckin’ clown.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, now really isn't the time for romance between Crowley and Aziraphale but, well, what's more romantic than fighting off a literal killer clown from outer space, hmm? Or, rather, standing on the sidelines because one of you who was supposed to be evil is absolutely horrible at being evil, and thus is dying in your arms, but isn't telling you he's dying in your arms. 🤷🏻♀️
> 
> Richie gets all the best one-liners in the film, I swear. 
> 
> Obviously, I had to change up this scene a bit from how it is in the movie, and I threw in some lines from the miniseries as well just because I thought they were particularly good. Wish I could write more, but I've been fighting a migraine all day, so I think i'm going to leave this here, make some tea, and leave you all wondering how on earth I'm going to write a convincing fight scene. (I'll be honest: I'm gonna be doing that too!) 
> 
> Tootles!


	32. Grief

The children launched themselves at the clown, but Aziraphale was only half aware of how the fight was going. He was distracted by the sudden and alarming change in Crowley’s energy. He turned towards the Glamour, who was leaning against him heavily, head lolling to the side. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried, turning fully towards him, holding the Glamour by his thin shoulders. The creature looked like a wilting flower, falling forward, barely able to keep his head upright. “Crowley,” Aziraphale said quietly, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. “Please don’t tell me that…”

“‘M dying, yesss,” Crowley replied, dragging out his “s”s due to exhaustion. “Thought I could last, but…” he sighed, dropping his head a moment before drunkenly lifting it back up, “whatever Pennywise did to me, when he showed me my hunger…” He hugged himself around his middle, and Aziraphale felt a soft pulse of power swirling there in agony. He set Crowley down against one of the mounds of toys. Not the most comfortable resting places, but it would d for now.

“Oh Crowley…” Aziraphale swallowed, holding back his sobs. Despite their disagreements, in the short time that he’d known Crowley, he’d become quite fond of the strange Glamour who refused to give in to what was easy. “Oh, Crowley, please...we’ll make it! Please don’t…”

Crowley’s sunglasses fell away, and Aziraphale could see that his eyes were glazed over and milky white, as if the snake inside him was shedding. He smiled sadly. “Promise me, angel,” he murmured, “promise me you’ll look after them. Not just mine, but the Losers, too?”

“Crowley…”

But the Glamour reached out, clinging desperately to Aziraphale’s arm, and Aziraphale could tell that he was crying, too. He was scared to die. “Please!” He begged. “Please promise me! Promise me you’ll get Bev and Eddie to safety, too.”

Aziraphale nodded solemnly, hand over Crowley’s. “Yes, I...I promise…”

“Dad!” Wren, Jack, and Katie noticed what was going on, and ran over to Crowley’s side. Even the Losers started to become distracted, and the fear in the room amplified. Pennywise took advantage of this, copying Crowley’s form, and sneaking up behind Stan, letting out a hiss that made the boy jump three feet into the air.

“Yess,” Pennywise drawled in a poor imitation of Crowley’s voice, “see, thiss is what I am at my core. A monster.” He opened the borrowed mouth, borrowed teeth growing long and sharp. “I won’t be able to save you without a sacrifice,” he taunted.

Aziraphale stepped back to allow the children close. They were in their own little bubble of anxiety and fear, worried that this was the end for their father. “Is he still alive?” Jack asked anxiously, running his fingers over a raised patch on his jacket. A jacket Crowley had made for him, using power he couldn’t spare…

Wren expertly checked Crowley’s pulse. “Yeah, but only just.”

Katie’s eyes filled with tears as she hid her face in crowley’s lapel. “Daddy,” she sniffled. “Daddy, please don’t go.”

The Losers turned with renewed vigor and anger towards Pennywise. “You killed him,” Bev snarled, holding up her weapon.

Pennywise tried to loo triumphant, but couldn’t help admitting that maybe this had backfired on him.

“Stop wearing his face!” Eddie roared, smacking Pennywise in the stomach with Jack’s forgotten golf club.

The fight went on, but Wren, Jack, and Katie remained by their father’s side, powerless to do anything but watch him die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for your tears!


	33. Resurrection

Katie reached down to hold her father’s hand, tears still streaming down her face. Wren and Jack were holding each other and crying, Wren hidden against Jack’s shoulder. This couldn’t be how this ended, Katie thought. Stories always had happy endings. 

She knew, without really understanding, that she had a deeper connection to her father than her aunt or her brother. He had shared his power with her, and it flowed deep and warm and golden through her veins. 

Maybe she could return the favor.

Her hand sparked against her father’s. “Daddy,” she whispered, “Lemme help. Please.” She closed her eyes, concentrating hard, and began to push.

Pennywise was on his knees, staring up at Beverly. His face changed to that of her father, smirking at her. “Bevvie,” he taunted, “are you still my little girl?”

Bev slammed the iron rod down his throat, causing the deception to fall away. Pennywise scrambled backwards, struggling to spit out the rod, choking. Hope. Hope and power and...love. Disgusting. It was weakening him.

The Losers seemed to feel that, too. Eddie turned to look behind him, still feeling nauseous from being vomited on. Because he’d seen Crowey’s Deadlights, or, at least, a watered down version of them, he could almost see the transfer of power from Katie to Crowley. He tugged at Bill’s arm. “Hey. Look.”

As the clown choked, the Losers turned around.

“What’s she doin?” Ben asked.

Mike smiled. “She’s helping him.”

“Yeah, I can see the power,” Eddie said.

“Me too,” Bev added. “It’s gold.”

“Katie’s brave,” Georgie asserted.

Bill put an arm around his brother’s shoulder, grinning. “Yeah, s-she is.”

“Brave, or stupid,” Richie pointed out because he had to.

“Nah, brave,” Stan said.

“Please,” Katie whispered. “Daddy, please wake up!”

Crowley’s eyes opened and he leaned forward, gasping and coughing as if he’d just been rescued from drowning. Aziraphale fell on his knees beside the children, nearly glowing with joy. Wren and Jack leaped forward, tackling Crowley into a hug. Katie, worn out, lay against his side, half asleep.

Crowley grinned lopsidedly at aziraphale. “Whaddid I tell ya, angel?” He rasped, voice still quiet and raw. “Never underestimate the power of love.”

Aziraphale wiped the tears from his eyes, then looked up to the rest of the children and nodded, smiling.

Bill led the group back to Pennywise, who had swallowed the metal rod with some difficulty, backed up against the large sewer pipe. 

“Now I k-know why you didn’t k-kill Beverly,” Bill began, advancing on the creature, “‘cause s-she wasn’t afraid. And we aren’t either. Not anymore.” Georgie wrapped his arms around his brother’s waist. “You’re the one who’s afraid.”

Pennywise shook, grinning manically, looking for all the world like a cornered animal.

“Because you’ll starve,” Richie asserted proudly.

“You’ll feel like Crowley feels,” Beverly said.

“And that scares you, doesn’t it?” Eddie asked mockingly.

“Because you won’t have anybody to rescue you,” Mike said.

Pennywise flipped himself over the edge of the sewer pipe, and the children all rushed over to look. The clown was reciting the same rhyme Bill used to help with his stutter. Stan handed Bill the pipe he was holding, but before Bill could raise it against him, Pennywise slipped further into the well, his body seeming to flake away before him. 

“Fear,” he realized bleakly. Then, he let go, falling deep into the pit below.

A feeling of relief passed amongst the children. 

“We did it!” Richie cried. “We sent that clown back to hell where it belongs!” He jumped eagerly around, clapping everyone on the back. Bev and Ben hugged, Bill embraced Georgie, Mike and Stan high fived.

“Well done.” The Losers turned. 

Crowley, supported by Aziraphale, stood before them, smiling. Jack was at his side, helping, while Wren carried a sleeping Katie.

“Will she be all right?” Georgie asked, gazing up at Crowley innocently.

Crowley chuckled. “Yes. She did a very stupid thing, but she’ll be fine. She’s just exhausted.”

“Let’s get outta here,” Richie said. “Eddie,” he clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “you navigate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys know I wasn't gonna let Crowley die! Duh!
> 
> The kids have defeated Pennywise and are on their way out of the sewers! Now, maybe Crowley will get some of his strength back through a well-deserved meal or two. Sound good? :D
> 
> Thanks for sticking around this long, guys. What started as a simple Halloween project turned into one of my most popular fics...EVER! I can't thank you guys enough for sticking with me through this, and I hope you enjoy what's coming next!


	34. Love Unites Us

The trek out of the sewers was slow-going. 

Like the Neibolt house, the winding sewers were Pennywise’s domain, and he’d made them tricky to traverse to avoid detection. Not that anyone but the Losers had come looking for him, but that was besides the point. Not only were the tunnels confusing, however, but Crowley was barely able to walk on his own two feet. So far, he had resisted the idea of being carried, if only so the children didn’t worry so much, but with everything that had happened, it was a losing battle. 

Eddie growled in frustration. “I KNOW this was the way we came in,” he insisted to the group. “I don’t understand why we seem to be going in circles.” 

“It’s that clown’s doing,” Mike said. “It can make things go its way without trying.” 

“Well, we have our own It!” Richie yelled. “Why can’t HE make stuff go HIS way!” 

“Shh,” Bill cautioned. “You’ll w-wake up K-Katie.” 

“Dad can barely stand,” Wren cut in, shifting her arms around her niece carefully. “‘Sides, this isn’t London, where we come from.” 

Jack nodded. “Derry isn’t dad’s. Doesn’t belong to him.” 

“What about the other one?” Richie asked. “The angel.” 

“I’m afraid my powers are unable to change Pennywise’s magic on my own,” Aziraphale replied. “They have to be helped along by love.” 

“Ew,” Richie scrunched up his face, thinking of love scenes he’d watched in old movies. 

The Losers sighed, leaning against the sewer walls and each other. They were hungry, tired, and lost, and they felt very alone right about now. Even Jack and Wren seemed put-out. Their father had always had a solution, and now, he was useless. 

Crowley had only been half-listening up until that point, but as fear and doubt began to creep in amongst the children, he lifted his head weakly, vision swimming in the gloom. Maybe being carried wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “You’ll think of something,” he reassured them. 

Bev trailed a discarded stick through the sewer water at her feet, drawing hearts in the ripples. Wait… “Love,” she jumped to her feet. “That’s it! Love!” 

“No offense, B-Bev,” Bill said with a hint of jealousy, “I d-don’t t-think you k-kissing Ben is g-gonna h-help.”

“Might not hurt, though,” Ben said hopefully. 

Beverly smiled fondly at Ben, walking over to take his hand. “Probably not, but I don’t think that’s the kinda love we need right now.”

“The kissing kinda love is for grown-ups,” Stan said quietly, rubbing his arm in a nervous sort of way.

“Eugh, don’t remind me, I think I’m gonna be sick,” Richie pretended to gag dramatically and Eddie elbowed him hard in the ribs. 

“It has to be kid love,” Bev said.

“But what’s kid love, anyway?” Richie asked. “We can’t exactly make friendship bracelets right now.”

“It’s what brought us down here,” Mike said thoughtfully. “The desire to never let that thing take anyone else.”

“H-hope,” Bill said, holding out his hand.

“Friends!” Georgie slapped his hand on top of his brother’s.

“Determination,” Eddie added his hand to the pile.

“Affection,” Ben added his hand as well.

“Camaraderie,” Stan put his hand in, too.

“Peer pressure,” Richie grinned, but didn’t put his hand in yet. “Uhh, okay, um...protectiveness.” He slapped his hand against Stan’s. “Gotta make sure you dummies come out alive.”

“Faith,” Bev smiled, adding in her hand, too.

Wren and Jack walked over, too, Katie stirring and sliding out of her aunt’s arms, rubbing her eyes and smiling at Georgie reassuringly. “Togetherness,” Wren said as she and Jack put their hands on top of the pile.

“Goodness!” Katie cheered.

With the love flowing through the gathered children, Aziraphale was able to give Eddie the nudge he needed to see the way forward. It wasn’t hard, and he’d have gotten it on his own a minute later but, well, the Agent (hmm...he liked being known as an “angel.” Incorrect, but accurate) wanted to hurry things along. Crowley needed to get to the surface to rest properly, and Katie should be looked over properly to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

“Hey!” Eddie grinned. “I can see it! I see the way out!” He slipped away from the group and ran off ahead. ‘This way! C’mon!”

The children ran off, whooping and hollering as they made their way out and into the summer sunshine.

Crowley smiled fondly, basking in the love, even if it made him a bit dizzy (he was meant to be repelled by love, after all), closed his eyes and finally let himself be carried out of the sewer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No child orgy, as promised, because what the fuck actually? No thanks. Children can love in other ways, and it's not up to Bev to carry the emotion for them all. Not nice implications there, Mr. King.
> 
> I do shade, but no offense to fans of the book. Just thought that bit was...disgusting, to say the least.
> 
> We're near the end now!


	35. Our Own Side

The warm summer sunshine nearly blinded the children as they climbed out of the storm drain. The sounds of a nearby train, the bubbling river, bees buzzing, and gentle wind whispering through the tall grass greeted them. It was so much better than the oppressive silence of the sewers.

The children sighed in relief and laughed with joy, pulling each other up and out, letting the sun warm their skin as if they were basking snakes, delighted to be warm and safe. They walked together in a line away from the smelly drain and found a place where they could sit and rest a while.

Crowley and Aziraphale were not far behind, though they were slower due to fatigue. Crowley could barely pull himself out of the sewer, but the sun was invigorating, and he sighed deeply, leaning over with amusement to watch Aziraphale climb out of the drain. 

The Glamour closed his eyes, breathing the warm air in deeply. He was still hurting, his muscles trembling and his stomach aching, but such cares seemed far away. He wasn’t sure if it was a result of Aziraphale’s magic or not, though he was almost certain of it had been, he’d feel the effects of it like static around him. Either it wasn’t the Agent’s magic, or Aziraphale had made allowances for him, and at least one of those options was too heavy for him to consider. 

“‘S nice here now,” Crowley hummed, the breeze carrying his wavy locks away from his neck. 

“Mm, yes, I agree,” Aziraphale replied, sitting down beside Crowley on a nearby overturned log. “It is much less oppressive now.” 

Crowley crossed one leg over the other and turned to look at Aziraphale. His glasses had long been discarded, lost to the sewers, so his bright golden eyes were on display, glittering like facets in the sunshine. “But it’s not gone, is it?” He asked, though it seemed as if he already knew the answer. “It’s still here somewhere.”

Aziraphale nodded uneasily, biting his lip. “Yes. Dormant. Sleeping. But not dead.”

Crowley frowned, turning back to face the children. He knew his own kind enough to predict their safety for the next 27 years. But Pennywise would be back. And they’d all be ready. He’d make sure of it. 

Some feet away, the children were laughing in the grass. Georgie and Katie were playing some version of Duck Duck Goose, sitting across from each other in the grass and tagging the other after a certain amount of repetitions of the word “duck,” Richie was lying flat on his back next to Eddie, soaking up the sun, Eddie and Bev were sitting shoulder to shoulder, though she was looking at Ben, who was smiling at her through the bright sun. Mike joined Richie on his back after some time, plucking one of the strands of long grass to chew on. Stan copied him, though frowned at the taste, making Wren and Jack laugh as they took stems of grass for themselves. Richie, ever the clown (however ironically), plucked one and affected a very James Bond sort of tone, making a ripple of laughter erupt again among them. It was only Bill who sat quiet and contemplative. 

“It doesn’t f-feel like it’s over,” he said after the laughter had died down. His eyes sought Wren’s. “It’s not. It c-can’t be. We d-didn’t do enough to k-kill it.” 

Wren sighed, fingers twitching against the knitted trims on her dress. “It...takes a lot to kill Glamours. I mean, dad’s pretty durable…”

“And Pennywise isn’t gonna starve,” Jack added. “He doesn’t have rules like dad does.” 

An uneasy gloom settled over the children. 

“If he c-comes back,” Bill stood up, “we’ll b-be ready.” 

Richie and Eddie stood up, nodding. Bev and Ben, then Mike and Stan followed. Wren and Jack also got to their feet. 

Bill found a bit of broken glass. “Let’s p-promise each other,” he said, opening his palm, “that if IT ever comes b-back, we’ll be ready for IT.” 

“I’m in,” Bev thrust her hand out. 

“Me too,” Richie stuck his hand out. 

Bill went around the circle and completed the blood pact with a simple slice. When he had finished with the Losers (sparing Georgie and Katie because they were too young), he glanced over at Wren and Jack. 

“Yes of course we’ll join you,” Wren held out her hand. “We’ll do whatever we can to help.” 

Jack nodded. “All for one and one for all.” 

The children all stood in a circle, hands clasped, sharing the pact and the bond. It was something Crowley and Aziraphale could feel, even some feet away. 

Aziraphale smiled. “They’re good kids. Very strong.” 

Crowley nodded, shivering a bit in the cooling air of the early evening. “I’m just glad that isn’t directed at me,” he admitted. “They could kill me now, easily.” 

“But they won’t,” Aziraphale patted his knee. “We’re on our side now.” 

Crowley sighed, smiling, his hand closing over Aziraphale’s. “Right. Our own side.”


	36. Rescuing Beverly

The air seemed clear and peaceful for the first time that summer, the night brisk and cool. Beverly was too young to be smoking, and it wasn’t something she could just blame on her father. Just a bad habit. She didn’t smoke as much as adults, but it was a bit of a nervous habit all the same. 

The street lamps outside were warm and golden, and she could feel the way the air changed to let something exist within it. A rustle in the grass; she watched it moving across her lawn, quick, like it knew the way. That should’ve made her uneasy, but...she wasn’t. She turned her head into her room, eyes falling on the duffel bag sitting on her bed. Packing up to leave forever, she was shocked to discover there wasn’t much of her old life worth taking with her. A doll she’d had since childhood, a few drawings the kids she babysat regularly gifted her, and one drawer full of clothes was all she had, all she wanted. There was nothing else about this life that she needed to remember. 

She felt him before she saw him. He didn’t feel quite like Pennywise; as far as presences went, his was less obtrusive. Derry wasn’t even his home, but while the clown felt odd and out of place, he didn’t. He felt worth looking at, surely, a hint of danger laced into his core. But he felt more like a watchful parent than a hungry predator. Which was why she felt safe blowing out her inhalation into her room so she didn’t blow it on him before turning to the window. “Hey,” she whispered. 

Crowley smiled, something shy and almost childlike. “Hello, Beverly.” His stance was enclosed and defensive, arms hugging his ribcage, head tilted downward, eyes nearly hidden by his hair...in addition to his dark glasses. He moved his head a fraction upwards, his eyes flickering like candles. “Are you sure?” 

Bev nodded, slipping off the windowsill. “C’mon in. I’ve packed already.” She pulled her jacket over her body, a jean jacket with patches that had once belonged to her mother. Even though she was quite tall, she could hide her hands in the sleeves. There were tears in the arms, worn patches and frayed ends. She jumped as Crowley slid smoothly into the room. Her eyes couldn’t follow the movement exactly, but he seemed almost boneless as he climbed inside, settling against the windowsill awkwardly. He looked thinner, skin pale in the moonlight, what bones she could see painting dark shadows on his body. He was patient, though, waiting. For permission, perhaps. 

“You can go…” Beverly began, making a vague gesture, waving out her door. “Dad’s room is, uh. Right next to mine.” 

“Thank you,” Crowley replied, smiling kindly, “but I want to make sure you’re all right first.” He sighed, trembling a bit as if chilled, even though the night was warm and he had a heavy jacket besides. “I know what happened...it’s a lot to take in.” 

Beverly nodded, sitting on the bed and playing with a loose thread on her sleeve. “Yeah. It was.” She sighed. “I didn’t expect...well, I don’t know what I expected, really, but it wasn’t...that.” 

Crowley chuckled. “You lot really roughed him up.” It was the first time she’d really registered that his accent wasn’t American. Where did he learn to speak like that? And Aziraphale, too, sounded British. Only...they weren’t… “I couldn’t be prouder.” 

Beverly shrugged, trying to dismiss it, though she couldn’t suppress the flower of joy that bloomed in her chest at the compliment. “We had to. Couldn’t just let it take Bill ‘n Georgie.” 

“No, of course not.” 

Silence. A soft, strangled noise interrupted the quiet and Beverly lifted her head, trailing her fingers absently through the largest hole in the right sleeve. Crowley’s face was drawn and pained. She felt sorry for him. “Eddie told me your kids think you’re dying.” 

Crowley snorted dismissively. 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Beverly thought of seeing Crowley lying weakly against the mound of toys. “You almost died down there.” 

The Glamour froze, then slumped over further. “Well. Yes. I’ve been slowly starving to death for two cycles. Nearly a century, now. My kind are built to feast and fast, but I’m lucky to…” he shrugged, defeated, “guess it's sorta the equivalent of trying to live on a bowl of cereal for a week.” 

Beverly shuddered. She’d never been that poor, but there were times dinner had been light, when they were only just scraping by. “That must be hard to do,” she sympathized, her eyes soft. “You should sit down. You look like you’re gonna fall.” 

“Thank you,” Crowley breathed, practically falling onto the bed in relief, though he was still sitting upright, hands clasped in his lap. His weight barely made a dip in the mattress, but Beverly thought that was probably because he was trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, not because of his health. The Glamour sucked in a breath. “I’m so tired,” he sighed. 

Beverly looked over at him. “I don’t...have to watch...do I?” 

Crowley shook his head. “Better if you don’t. I’ve learned through trial and error that my Deadlights can be safe, to an extent, but I wouldn’t tempt fate while I’m feeding.” He glanced over to her nervously. “Er, sorry, guess I shouldn’t...I’m usually much more eloquent.” 

Beverly giggled, tilting her head against his bicep. “‘S okay, dad. I get it.” 

Crowley wrapped an arm around Bev hesitantly, but smiled when she welcomed the platonic contact. “I’ve never felt safe with my dad,” Bev replied, her voice trembling as she tried not to cry. “I’m tired of being strong...of being afraid of him…” 

The Glamour hugged her tighter, gently holding her until she was breathing calmly. “I’m honored to hear you calling me “dad” already, when that word holds so much fear for you,” he said gently. “Let’s get you out of here, hmm? I won’t be long.” He stood up, smiling tenderly down at her, his eyes trailing over the rip. “That looks bad,” he tutted, already reaching out towards her. “Let me fix it for you.” 

Beverly hesitates, holding her arm against her. “Okay,” she relented, presenting the sleeve to him. “But don’t fix it all the way? The rips look punk as hell.” 

Crowley chuckled warmly. “Indeed they do.” He pressed two fingers over the rip, spending his energy on just one more miracle. Once the hole was stopped from fraying, he pulled back, feeling a bit dizzy. 

“Go.” Bev curled her knees up to her chest. “I’m ready to be free.” 

Crowley nodded solemnly and slipped out of Bev’s room and into the hall. Technically, mr. marsh shouldn’t be out of the hospital, seeing as he did take quite a beating, but whether through derry’s influence, his own, or the ineffability of fate itself, he was here, in his own home. Though not for long.

The Glamour shed his control like a second skin. It wasn’t so much that he was entirely chaotic; no, never that. Control, in some way, had become a habit. He had to train his body and instincts out of the base behavior of his kind, so in that way, he was always tightly wound. But it only felt as bad as having any kind of morals at all, so he barely felt it.

The control he was shedding was simply letting him feel hungry, feel the deep-rooted starvation that was always kept under wraps. Crowley had learned to be content with what was essentially a restrictive diet; over the years, his appetite had waned, reduced, and he could be content with one meal, or two, if he was lucky. (And perhaps it was crude to call it “luck”, but we are all imperfect when we are hungry.)

Crowley could feel his form shutter at the edges with anticipation. Blood and Bone was not exactly what was appetizing, but it helped give substance to the fear, which was the main course.

Crowley touched the door knob and let it creep open. He hadn't hunted in a long time, and he felt a bit clumsy and out of practice. He purred like a car's engine, evoking the fear trigger he had placed in the man when he had come to call before. Alvin Marsh sat upright in bed, breathing hard, and Crowley let his eyes glow and his teeth and mouth grow. Scales ran down his spine as his legs flowed into a serpentine foot, and it delighted him to see a growing fear in this monster before him. He could feel it drawing him in, tempting him, and his mouth watered around his many teeth. His shaggy hair became wild as he moved closer. This, all of this, was for Bev. To rescue her, to take her from this place. 

Alvin Marsh tried to scream, but nothing came out when he opened his mouth. Crowley grinned and lunged at him in a true serpent’s strike.

Bev would not be troubled by this monster anymore.

Beverly felt drawn to the glow, and perhaps an innate sense of vengeance also drew her near the warm, glowing lights.

She couldn't see into her father's room. The lights had swallowed everything else, even the furniture and most of Crowley's form. She just barely make out the lines of him, mostly a serpent now. there was a certain coldness to these lights, but nothing as violent and hungry as Pennywise's lights. It still felt... affectionate, somehow.

The next thing she knew, Crowley was kneeling before her, shaking her shoulders.

“Bev! Beverly!” he cried, sounding distraught.

Bev answered the call with a yawn, feeling tired suddenly. “... Dad?” She asked, rubbing her eyes. They felt crusty, like she had just woken up.

“I'm here, Bev,” Crowley smiled, warm and sincere. He looked less desperate and pale than when he had climbed in through her window. “I'm here.”

Bev felt happy that Crowley was well again. Wren, Jack, and Katie needed their dad. And she had the impression but her life would be better now that she was free. But regardless, tears fell from her eyes, and she fell against Crowley, embracing him tightly.

“I…” she murmured between sobs. “I- I don't know why I'm crying.”

“It's okay not to know why,” Crowley embraced her warmly in return. “I hope I didn't scare you.” It was a question he didn't need to ask, but that was precisely why he needed to ask it, to prove that he was still the same as he had been before, and he would be the same way again.

Bev shook her head, unable to really speak. Relief. It felt like relief. She had been hurt, and now she wasn’t going to be hurt anymore. “Is it over?” She asked tearfully, leaning around Crowley’s form. But she could see nothing besides an empty bed that looked like it had been disturbed. No blood. She hadn’t even heard a scream.

Crowley nodded. “It’s over. You’re safe now.” He stood up carefully, as if he was carrying a great weight, stretching in the fragile moonlight. Bev watched him and wondered why she didn’t feel afraid. She knew what he’d done to her father, and yet…

And yet she was ready to acknowledge him as her father. She could tell it wasn’t his influence, either. She didn’t feel controlled in any way.

“Thank you,” she said. Crowley nodded, putting his glasses securely back over his eyes.

As they walked out of the front door, Bev a few steps ahead with her backpack and Crowley carrying her duffel bag behind, she turned around, tilting her head. “Crowley?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Ask away.”

“What was he afraid of? My father.”

Crowley hefted the bag up onto his shoulder and paused as if remembering. “You,” he said at last. “He’d been afraid of you since you hurt him, lashed out at him, made him feel small. He was scared of losing control over you.”

Bev nodded thoughtfully. “He did in the end...didn’t he?”

Crowley hummed. “I’d say so.”

“Dad?”

Crowley smiled. “Yeah?”

“Your Deadlights...I saw…” She paused, unable to describe it. “Shadows. Things that could’ve been if...all this...hadn’t happened.”

Crowley frowned. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I’m glad you showed them to me,” Bev said. “Because I can see flashes of a new future now. And it’s much better.” She grinned. “We just have to rescue Eddie.”

Crowley swallowed thickly. “D’ya think he’ll want to be?”

“Oh yes,” Bev grinned mischievously and Crowley couldn’t help laughing.

This one was going to be trouble. He just knew it.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.


	37. Rescuing Edward

Eddie jumped three feet in the air when he heard tapping on his window, but when he turned to look, Bev’s smiling face greeted him.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie hissed. “Shouldn’t you be, I dunno...home?!”

“Well,” Bev stage-whispered as she clumsily climbed in through the partially-open window (Eddie’s windows always stuck in warm weather; probably due to him never opening them because his mother would scold him about pollen irritating his allergies), “I would be, if I knew where it was.”

“And,” came a velveteen voice that cut through the dark like a knife through soft butter, “sleeping clown or no, I was not about to let her walk back alone.”

Eddie didn’t know when he’d gotten into the room. Crowley felt more powerful now, something new and warm and burning at his core. Eddie wasn’t afraid, per se, but he could feel the creature’s power warm and renewed in his veins. He looked between Bev and Crowley and understanding dawned, making nerves twist horribly in his gut. Nauseous, he sat down. “So,” he began, running thing fingers through thin hair, “you, ah…”

“Yes,” Crowley replied quickly, cutting him off before he finished. It was for the best; he didn’t feed like the clown, but the details were nonetheless disturbing.

Eddie really looked at the creature, whose eyes glittered behind his dark glasses like warm gemstones or honeycombs. He couldn’t deny that Crowley looked better than when he’d last seen him; less gaunt, a slight color dusting his cheekbones, an air of calm instead of desperation swimming around his core. He wrung his hands and looked down the hall towards his mother’s room, and then back at Bev. “Help me pack, okay?”

“Eddie,” Crowley strode forward, out of the darkness. As he stepped into the golden light from the streetlamp, he gained a more human countenance, head rounder and movements less serpentine. “Perhaps we should talk alone. Unless you don’t want to, that is.” He folded into himself, insecure, arms hugging his chest. Eddie felt irrevocably fond.

“It’s fine.” He stood up, hugging Bev tightly. 

Bev returned his embrace, smiling sunnily, then pulled back, looking between Eddie and Crowley. “I’ll wait in the hall.” She met Eddie’s eyes, gave his shoulders a squeeze, and then headed out of the room, door clicking shut behind her.

“Eddie,” Crowley began, oscillating in front of the bed as if he was unsure if he was allowed to sit or not. Eddie wanted to laugh hysterically, remembering his too-close call with the clown, remembering how Crowley was a monster that could take and take and take until he had his fill...and yet didn’t. And yet waited and asked permission, and…

“What kind of monster are you?” Eddie demanded suddenly, rounding on Crowley with all the force his small, slight body could muster.

The Glamour looked confused, pulling away with a spine that was decidedly less than human though not disturbing to look at, head tilted like a curious puppy. Silence. Then, Crowley settled his spine and rolled his shoulders. “You know the answer to that question.”

“Yeah, I mean,” Eddie flapped his hand in frustration, “I know like...what you’re supposed to do.” His eyes traveled up and down and the Glamour felt Seen in a way that he hadn’t felt in over 6000 years. Or so it seemed.

It reminded him of his first, of the child bride who had looked resolutely into his eyes and told him that she was not afraid.

“I mean,” Eddie went on, “are you really a monster, if all you do is help people?”

Crowley contemplated this. Then, he drew his hand away from his side. A light smattering of pale scales rippled away from his fingers, his nails long and curved, like that one middle aged cashier at the grocer’s who chewed gum too loudly. “I don’t help people,” he said. “I help children. There’s a difference.”

“Children are people,” Eddie said, just to be defiant.

Crowley smirked. “Suppose they are.” He folded his arms over his chest again, warming to the situation as Eddie became more confident. 

Eddie looked towards the door again. Crowley did not follow his gaze. “Did you know,” Eddie asked quietly after a while, “did you know that Bev was gonna…” He swallowed. “...ask you to, um.”

Crowley sighed. Not out of impatience, but it was something old and fatigued. “I didn’t know she’d seek me out, no,” he began, “but she did want to be rid of him. I was fairly certain of that.” He drummed his fingers on his arm. “If you want it straight, I was...able to make him...more fearful. I visited him, made him scared, made him look over his shoulder.”

Eddie turned to look up at Crowley. “Do you like doing that? Is it fun?”

Crowley rolled his shoulders, looking guilty. “It’s fun, yes. But as Aziraphale pointed out at the time, it only made me hungrier. I...don’t think I should have, to be honest.”

“But you said…” Eddie bit his lip. “You said...you feed on fear.”

“Yes.”

“So...the fear…”

“I’m a snake,” Crowley said gently. “At my core, that’s what I am. I adapted well to my rules that I made when I decided I wanted to protect, not harm.” 

Eddie nodded, deciding that further curiosity would only gross him out. Anyway, he didn’t need to know how Glamours fed. It would only get him thinking about Pennywise. “I think I love Richie,” he said nervously. “I don’t think I’m supposed to, but I do.” 

Crowley smiled kindly. “You can’t help who you love. And love is never wrong.” 

“People think so,” Eddie said, rubbing his arm. “My mom thinks so.” 

Crowley perked up. This was the part of the conversation he was here for. Whether Eddie wanted to get away from his mother or not, he needed to know. He was tired, and he missed his children. Derry was eerily still without Pennywise to pull its strings, but he still felt the sting of being an invader in a strange territory. The sooner he could get back to his children and Aziraphale and get back to sleep, the better. 

“And,” Eddie went on, “I’m angry at my mom for keeping me prisoner. I don’t think I’d ever stop being afraid of everything with her around. But she’d try to stop me loving Richie. I know she would. She doesn’t understand…” He met Crowley’s eyes, earth-grown centers ignited with fire. “I don’t want to be afraid. Of anything.” 

Crowley couldn’t help the way his lights burned at his core with hungry delight. True, he wasn’t starving anymore, but...it was so nice to eat, to have energy to spare. He closed his eyes, sighing, trying not to look so hungry. 

Both of them jumped when Bev opened the door. She crossed the room to Eddie confidently, looking at Crowley. “You all set, dad?” 

Crowley nodded, looking at Eddie one last time. “Are you sure?” 

Eddie nodded. “Yeah.” He took Bev’s hand and squeezed it. “Been a long time since I’ve had a dad. Might be nice to have one again.” 

“Go eat, dad,” Bev gave him a thumbs up. “I’ll help Eddie pack.” 

Crowley slipped away to the shadows, checking Eddie’s room for fears. There wasn’t any that were strong enough to keep his interest. 

Eddie was already strong. Maybe strong enough to stand up to his mother. But he would never be allowed to love Richie. 

That wouldn’t do. 

~

The Glamour slunk into the bedroom, making tiny sounds like mice scrambling across the floorboards. He buzzed like a million flies, surrounding the sleeping woman with sound. For Eddie’s sake, he would be gentle with her. She would only have nightmares, never seeing his terrible face. 

Crowley slid fully into his serpentine form and opened his mouth wide. 

Eddie went stiff as he felt a rush of power through the walls. He shivered. It felt...cold. Not evil, not like Pennywise’s aura, but...hungry, weak, fatigued. Something he had seen looking at Crowley when he first talked to him in that alley. 

And then, it was gone. 

“Did you feel that?” He whispered to Bev, shouldering his backpack. 

Bev, shoving the gym bag they’d packed with Eddie’s larger belongings out the window, nodded. “Yup. That’s what it was like when he, y’know.” She shrugged. It felt weird to say it in front of Eddie, even though she’d long ago come to terms with it. 

“Oh,” Eddie said, feeling a bit sick. “I wonder if I did the right thing.” 

Bev ran over to him and hugged him. “You did,” she reassured him. “Trust me, I know you did.” 

Eddie hugged her back. “You saw more, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Bev admitted. “And it’s a lot more than us just being older.” 

The bedroom door opened, and Crowley slipped through. His glasses were back on, so it was hard to get a full picture of his expression, but when he saw the children, he smiled kindly. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go back to the hotel. You both must be exhausted.”

Eddie surprised himself with a yawn, and Bev rubbed her eyes. They sleepily followed Crowley out the window, which could miraculously open wider than before, and clung to him as they walked the empty streets.

After a moment of quiet, Eddie looked up, his cheek brushing against the leather of Crowley’s jacket. “Do I call you “dad” now?”

Crowley shrugged, though the nonchalance was heavily faked. “You can. Most of my children do. Makes things easier, I suppose.”

“Hm.” Eddie mused. “‘S been a long time since I’ve had a dad.”

Crowley ruffled Eddie’s hair affectionately, swallowing down the feeling of guilt along with his meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Back on my bullshit again~
> 
> Thank you all for being so patient with me while I've been quiet between uploads. I've been dealing with a lot of stress and depression and schoolwork. But I'm back! And we are going to finish this story!
> 
> This chapter (and the rescue) turned a bit angsty??? Blame @usuallyherdragon who made me think harder about Eddie's rescue than I had intended to.
> 
> (Listen, I like feeding Crowley. We all know that. And he deserves to eat without feeling guilty...)
> 
> *coughs*
> 
> Well...Hope you've enjoyed!


	38. A Satisfying Conclusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small warning for eating disorder stuff, as some things Crowley discusses might trigger those with a history of disordered eating. Just FYI!

It was late by the time they got back to the hotel, but Wren, Jack, and Katie were all still up. Well, Katie just barely, but that was understandable given the day she’d had. 

“Daddy!” She still ran to embrace him all the same, abd Crowley caught her up in his arms, hugging her tightly to his chest. He felt better for holding her, felt better for being tackled in hugs by Wren and Jack. It reminded him that he was different from the Glamour asleep in this town, who gorged mindlessly. It failed to alleviate the sick feeling in his stomach, but he didn’t let on. 

Jack and Bev got on like a house on fire, likely through sharing similar experiences. And Eddie would no doubt fit right in. A band of misfits. Crowley smiled, feeling warm inside from more than just his meal. It was always nice to see his children all getting along. 

“Sucks that I didn’t get to see you hunt,” Jack complained. “I wanted to see if you’d become like Alien!” 

Bev shook her head, “it’s just lights. I couldn’t see anythin.” 

“You saw it?!” Jack’s eyes were wide. 

“All right, all right,” Crowley shooed at the children. “Bed! Now! I’m going to have a word with Aziraphale about letting you lot stay up past your bedtimes!” He could see the angelic figure watching through the large French doors that led to the terrace. (Well, perhaps it was more of a porch, considering they were on the ground floor, but anyway.) Perhaps he still felt like an outsider. Crowley, who was a solitary parent by nature, found himself wanting Aziraphale to feel welcome. It didn’t surprise him, though, really. He’d become quite fond of Maturin’s latest Agent. 

The children groaned, as they are wont to do, but obeyed, crowding around the sink in the small bathroom to wash their hands and brush their teeth, taking turns for changing and toilet. 

Crowley turned the lights in the room off as he went outside. Bev waited until he’d closed the French doors before sitting up. “Psst. Eddie!”

Eddie sat up. “What?” 

“What’re we whisperin about?” Jack asked. Wren rolled over to look sleepily at Bev. 

Bev rolled her eyes. “I was just sayin...I saw the future. Well, an alternate future, I think.” She traced a pattern on the cheap bedsheets. “Where Crowley hadn’t come.” 

“Yeah,” Katie piped up, sitting up in bed, smiling in the dark. “I saw stuff like that, too!” 

Bev nodded. “So you know it’s nightmare fuel.” She reached a hand across Jack for Eddie, and he took it. “I think he feels guilty for doing what he had to do. I think you do, too, don’t you?” 

Eddie nodded. “Yeah.”

Bev squeezed his hand. “Don’t be. You’d end up with someone just like her. You’re better off now. Trust me.” She shivered. “Let’s just say...we both married our parents.” 

Eddie shuddered. 

“We can’t let him feel guilty,” Bev told them. 

Wren hummed. “I wonder if he always does, y’know? I wonder if he hates that part of himself.” 

“But why would you hate eating to live?!” Jack wondered. “That’s insane!” 

“I mean, yeah, maybe,” Wren said, “but you don’t have to think about who you’re going to kill when you wanna eat.” 

The other children hummed in agreement. 

“We’ll figure it out in the morning,” Wren helped Katie settle back down. “Get some rest, everyone.” 

Bev sighed, but lay back down on the pillow. It had been a long and exhausting day, and she was tired, now that she thought about it.

The other children soon drifted off, exhausted but happy, and feeling like a family again.

~

Crowley gently slid the French doors closed until they made a smack sound. Satisfied, he turned to look at Aziraphale. He could see many emotions sliding across the Agent’s face. None of them were fear, but he still felt rather awkward being judged by a creature of Good. So, he did the only thing he could think of. 

He complained. “The children should’ve been asleep hours ago, angel. I know it’s summer, but they’ve had a long day. They need their rest.”

Aziraphale smiled fondly. Crowley wished he wouldn’t. He almost--almost--preferred Aziraphale sneering at him for everything he was. Hatred, he could deal with. Kindness, well. He wasn’t equipped to handle it. “They wanted to wait up for you,” he murmured, turning out towards the street. The neon glow from the vacancy sign above their heads caught in his hair, and Crowley swallowed down a fond sigh. “I couldn’t deny them that.”

Crowley shook his head, chuckling, flinging himself artfully down on an old poolside lounge chair. Odd, because there wasn’t a pool at this hotel. It was far too small and dirty for that. The previous occupants of this room must’ve nicked it from somewhere. “They’ll have you wrapped around your fingers before you know it. Little troublemakers.”

Aziraphale chuckled warmly. “You like them that way.”

“That I do,” Crowley stretched luxuriously. The Glamour couldn’t deny that being fed felt...good. His body felt calm and settled in a way he had not felt for quite some time. There was no longer a countdown clock to Doomsday sitting on his chest. He could relax. Crowley leaned back in the chair, sighing deeply, closing his eyes. He felt bloated; he was so unused to eating any sort of decent meal that what should’ve been a mere pittance to a starved Glamour felt like a feast. It didn’t help that his stomach was compressed due to the form he was currently taking. 

Still…

“I thought you might...y’know,” the Glamour traced a vague shape through the air with his hand, “scold me, for eating too much, or what have you.” 

“Hm,” Aziraphale replied, and Crowley heard him turn around and lean against the railing (it creaked under his weight; any normal human would’ve gotten splinters or fallen straight through the bars). “And why should I do that?” He asked. “By the standards of your own species, you’ve barely eaten a day’s worth of servings!” 

“By my standards, though,” Crowley muffled a burp delicately. Damn human corporations and their tiny stomachs! The fear he was digesting could warm him, if he allowed it to, could make him seek the rest he sorely needed. But he wasn’t digesting, wasn’t touching the food. Or, well, only some of it. Just enough so he could live. But…

“You feel guilty.” Aziraphale said. It wasn’t a question. “You think you’ve done young Eddie a disservice, even when he’s asked you to rescue him.” 

Crowley curled his knees to his chest and shifted, turning away. He nodded reluctantly. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sat on the chair; Crowley could feel his weight and his warmth. “My dear, I must confess…I gifted Bev her visions. And I influenced Eddie to accept your help.” 

Crowley whipped around towards Aziraphale, eyes wide below his glasses. “You what?!” How could an Agent of Maturin encourage a Glamour’s appetite?!

Aziraphale clasped his hands together. “I am afraid I was not entirely honest with you, dear. You see, Maturin did send me after Pennywise, yes. But He also sent me to thwart Mother Deadlight’s plan.” 

Crowley blinked. “Bev was saying how she saw a different future…” 

“Yes.” 

“That future…” Crowley swallowed. “Was it because…?”

“I assumed you had either never helped at all, or had perished along with your children,” Aziraphale said in a matter-of-fact tone. “So you see, dear boy. I could not let that future come to pass. And I did not think you would mind going against your Mother.” 

“Nah,” Crowley shrugged. “Think she wrote me up as a lost cause ages ago.” He took off his glasses, fiddling with the ends between his long fingers. “Aziraphale...I...should I say thank you?” 

Aziraphale smiled kindly. “Just this once. I don’t exactly want word to get around that I allied myself with a Glamour.” 

Crowley snorted. “Come off it. You’re as much of a bastard as my children are.” 

“I suppose,” Aziraphale allowed. 

“But a bastard worth knowing, in the end.” Crowley grinned. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “And you, my dear, are just a little bit of a good person.” 

“Hmph,” Crowley grumbled, yawning. “If you say so, angel.” 

“I do.” Aziraphale stood up, brushing off his waistcoat. “Well,” he sighed, “suppose I should get going...report back.” 

“Don’t leave,” Crowley’s gold eyes gazed at him with the same vulnerability they had in the sewers, when he was close to death. “You don’t really want to, I can sense it. You want to stay.” 

“I do,” Aziraphale replied, sighing sorrowfully. “But if I do not have a believable position…”

“The library!” Crowley blurted out. “I can set you up at the London Library! You love books! And learning! You’ll fit right in!” 

“But…dear boy…” Aziraphale couldn’t help trembling in excitement, though. “What will become of the current owners?” 

Crowley waved his hand. “Dowling’s been thinking of selling the place off for ages. I’ll have him hand you the deed to the old thing. Simple.” 

Aziraphale glowed with delight. “Oh, splendid! Thank you, Crowley!” 

“Ngk,” Crowley grumbled. “Shaddup.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t stop smiling if he tried. “Come now, dear. It’s late, and you need your rest, too.” 

“Right,” Crowley sat up with a groan, pulling himself to his feet with a great effort. “Just don’t let me sleep for a decade. I need to get the kiddos settled in first thing tomorrow morning!” 

“Of course, dear,” Aziraphale promised. “I’ll watch over them, and wake you up bright and early.” 

Crowley settled himself down on the couch, smiling at the angel as he drifted off to sleep. 

He had strengthened his family and added those in need that he had met. He’d given them safety. 

And he’d done it all without dying. 

A perfect rate of success, he thought. Someone would be proud of him. 

(He rather thought that someone was Aziraphale...but he wasn’t going to tell anyone.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we are almost at an end! I would like to thank flamethrower and usuallyherdragon for being steadfast supporters of the series, and tehren, who kept me going with their lovely comments! And of course, thank you to my readers and to those who have commented along the way! Also, for anyone still here, I salute you! Thank you for making this series so successful!
> 
> Next up, if you all can stomach it (no pun intended)...Itsy Bitsy Spider! ;)


	39. Epilogue: London Bridge

“We’ve got to have a connecting tunnel here…”

“Ew, no, remove that one there!”

“Why?”

“Because it always smells like ass near the old power plant.” 

“W-watch your l-language, Richie.” 

“Sorry, Bill, but it DOES! I’m telling you!”

“One needs to go to the Barrens, of course.” 

“We should finally build that clubhouse, before summer’s up.”

“Where are we gonna find wood?”

“You guys are gonna build a clubhouse? Sweet! Can we help?”

“Sure! More the merrier!”

“Maybe we can build a soapbox racer!”

Crowley beamed like a proud parent and settled back in his hammock. The late summer sun beat down on his hide, warming him down to his cold-blooded core. The drone of his children and the Losers debating and squabbling was like the humming of insects, and helped make him feel at home. 

Bill and Georgie were going away to some water park or other a few states away and would be gone until September, so the Losers and the Campsite Kids had decided to gather for one more important mission: connecting the underground tunnels between Derry and London. Crowley, who was going to create the tunnels, got final say, as he didn’t want to encroach on Pennywise’s lair, the deep black heart of Derry, just in case the children walking back and forth would wake him. He could already tell a lot of their ideas would have to be scrapped, but there were a few he could work with. 

He lazily rolled his head over to where Katie and Georgie were coloring in the grass, an oversized Disney coloring book between them, brand new markers in Georgie’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles lunchbox set out between them. They were talking to each other in low voices and giggling. Such a strong bond had already been built between them, and Crowley couldn’t be happier. Katie had never really connected with other children her age like Wren and Jack did. He was delighted she’d found a friend in the outgoing Georgie, who would no doubt introduce her to his friends. 

He was about to doze off again when he heard a rustling in the bushes. Not wishing to alarm his children unnecessarily, he didn’t move from his hammock, but did sit up and take his glasses off, all senses on alert, as delicate as the many hairs on a cat’s back. 

The bushes parted to reveal Aziraphale, and Crowley relaxed. Wren looked up from where she was bent over the map and stood up. “C’mon, let’s go get an Italian Ice from Ringo’s.”

“Aw,” Mike sighed. “We were just getting started!” 

“We can finish when we get back,” Ben pointed out. “Think we wanna leave those two,” he thumbed at Crowley and Aziraphale, “alone.” 

Bill nodded. “C-c’mon, Georgie.”

“Comin!” Georgie got up from the grass and helped Katie up. “What flavor’re ya gonna get? I like cherry.” 

“I like bubblegum!” Katie giggled, taking Georgie’s hand. “Wren, can I have a big cup like you get?”

“We’ll see.” 

“C’mon!” Bev called, already making her way through the underbrush. 

“Slowpokes!” Richie teased, poking his head around a tree. Eddie stuck his tongue out at the group. 

“Race you to the river!” Jack challenged, taking off down the hill. 

“Aw, no fair,” Ben complained. “You know the way!”

“Eat my dust, Hanscom!”

Stanley laughed, following behind Mike as they ran down the hill. 

“My!” Aziraphale exclaimed, observing the chaos with a sense of surprise. “What noise! I don’t know how you stand it!”

“Ah, they’re just bein’ kids, Angel,” Crowley stretched with a grunt and shifted until he was reclining in a more upright position. “I like it. Means I’m doin’ somethin’ right.” He blinked lazily up at Aziraphale, squinting in the sun, seeing as he hadn’t put his glasses back on. “How’s everything at the library?”

“Oh, it’s splendid, dear!” Aziraphale wriggled with delight. “There are so many books...some even predating London! I’ve taken the older ones into archives, and started looking into ways to restore them!”

“That’s incredible, Aziraphale.” Crowley smiled warmly. “Knew you’d fit right in.” 

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale blushed. “I came to see how you were feeling, and if you’d like to join me for a spot of lunch in town.”

“I’d like that, angel,” Crowley replied, surprised when Aziraphale held out his hand. He took it, and let the Agent pull him to standing. “Mmm...could get used to sleeping the summer away. I’ll almost be sad once September rolls around.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you can find other places to sleep, you wily serpent.” 

“Mm. Library has a great fireplace. Warms up the whole building.” 

“Lazy.” Aziraphale swatted at him, and then took his arm. “I hope this is all right, dear boy,” he added when Crowley remained still. “I nearly tripped over a log walking up here.” 

“‘S fine,” Crowley said, blushing and putting on his sunglasses. “Right, erm...shall we?”

Aziraphale grinned, leading the way. “I hear they have a new whiskey you might be interested in, Crowley. It’s a delicious malt recipe.” 

“You don’t say?”

They walked into town, arm in arm. Crowley let Aziraphale ramble on, half-listening as he took in the state of his town. There was peace and happiness, joy and togetherness. Nothing like Derry. That was probably a good thing, in the long run. His community was thriving. 

His home was, well...hospitable. For more beings than just himself. 

Even if, in another half century, he was desperate for a meal because of it, he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He smiled, watching his children eating Italian ice while Georgie and Katie sang together: 

“London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand, here it is at long last! The end! Did you ever think you’d see it? Were there times you gave up? Well, I never did! 
> 
> I always knew I wanted to finish this AU, and I will! I’ve already got SO many ideas for Itsy Bitsy Spider! It’s gonna be great, you guys! 
> 
> Thanks so much to all of you. Without your encouragement, I might not’ve even finished this fic! Much love to you all! 
> 
> ~Sylvie (Primarina)


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